Happy Apathy
by ECKon04
Summary: Step one: appear like any other slag in the school. Step two: allow people to call me 'Ed'. Step three: friend-zone Albus Potter.    Objective: Become Head Girl
1. In which the story begins

**A/N: **So I posted this to Harry Potter Fanfiction . net, but they don't post the chapter until it's been checked. I'm so anxious to see what people think of it, that I'll use this sight as a little trial.

I hope people like it! I made a story gif for it if you wanna see it it's right herrr:

file: / Users/ elenakondracki/ Documents/ Happy_apathy% 231. gif

Just take out those spaces, obviously...

ENJOY!

**_Disclaimer... I don't own the Harry Potter-verse_**

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

My cousin, June Halper, always warned me about high school. She said I had to take it by the balls, or else, or it would 'get me.'

'Course, I was ten, I wasn't sure what balls she was talking about, and I was quite terrified at the thought of high school 'getting me.' Still I don't know what that really means.

My name is Edith Stradeki, and I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

:::

My dearest associates,

I am writing to explain what happened on Tuesday, and to dispel whatever rumors might have risen from it.

If Kate Brewster simply refrained from joining, the entire situation would not have happened.

I am fully aware of the dangers of communicating with giants. She should certainly not think I would do something as hideously stupid as seek one out.

And even suggesting that I thought of doing such a thing is a lapse of intelligence. I wasn't the one to toss a hex. Well it didn't start with a hex, the mishap began when I defended myself in shock. Phoebe is very protective of me, and literally stood akimbo in between us to finish telling Kate off in my stead. As if relieving duties that I don't have the time to deal with. Sooner or later the whole Wizard-Giant Alliance dropped into the argument gradually and feelings were hurt.

Tucker Folsom, a very passionate subsidiary of the WGA, finalized the ordeal with a toe-fungal hex, and a detention.

Verily, I was able to talk only myself out of trouble, and Nick, Heather, and Alice, I am very sorry, but I didn't act on my anger. Words can bruise, just as easily as shoves, but I won't go into that.

The point of this essay is to prove to you all what a strong group of think-alikes we are. Sure, we turned against one that was in our club, but she was clearly an imposter. Accepting her into the club was a mistake the board will never make again. When you trip going up the stairs you fall forward, don't you? This will only make us stronger, and bring us closer to our goals.

Thank you,

Edith Stradeki, President of the WGA

:::

"One of your finest," mooned Phoebe, holding up the laminated letter like it was a relic.

"Or rather, one of my most effective," I corrected.

"Quite right," she replied, placing it back on the pile. "Have you considered the quidditch match?"

"Erm...no I have been avoiding that," I replied truthfully.

I am not the type to go to a quidditch game. I belong to (or head, really) eleven clubs, and I hardly ever have time for them.

Phoebe picked up the stack of files and tapped it against the table, making a clicking sound with her tongue.

"Well please try not to."

I smoothed out my ponytail and slouched onto the table. I only allow myself to lose composure when I'm with Phoebe. "I will begin the process of deciding tomorrow during breakfast. How does that sound?"

She nodded in satisfaction.

An introduction is in order.

I am a hobbyist.

I believe that there is a time of day for everything. Idleness is physically doing nothing. I'm ardently opposed to the very thought of it.

I call the mixture of business and emotional-ease an art. And I have mastered it.

I am in the end of my sixth year, and belong to the Ravenclaw house. I have an extensive networking of associates and peers, two-thirds of which I am "friendly" with. The reason I say this is because I need to sort out whom I can really trust, from whom I merely get along with, to avoid unpleasant scenes. I can never be too careful, especially with the price on my head.

I know it sounds like I am power hungry; I'm not! The truth is if I want to keep all of my clubs and activities, I need to be organized, and I need to have a plan.

Further proof is that I've been keeping out hawk eyes for those who have potential to co-operate. I am constantly looking for people who I can trust managing the extra-curricular, and whom I can depend on. Criteria include ardency for the club objective, creative ideas, and most importantly a healthy sense of leadership.

Some say that I lack a proper social life, but I believe that I am quite social enough.

_I don't have to go to parties to have friends._

That was meant to sting. I do have friends.

I always have a list of those of note from both ends of the spectrum. These four, of course, are my allies:

Tucker Folsom, an important player in the WGA, Houses of Hogwarts Unity League [HHUL], the Prefects Guild, and Herbology Club. He is a vital asset to me for information, and a very good friend.

Phoebe Longbottom is my right hand assistant, latching onto me when she was eleven. since then I have employed her, which was to my chagrin early on. Now, I don't know what I'd do without her. She is very dear to me. As cliché as this is she is the baby sister I never had.

Hugo Weasley started in with The Quidditch Strategy Club, and from there I introduced him to the Magical Aquadica Society, HHUL, homework club, and recently I convinced him to apply to join the Wizarding Kitchen Skills Club. There is limited space, and one was just made available to applications. I think he will really enjoy it. Hugo is my in with both the popular crowd (or rather, the lazy crowd), and the Potter-Weasley clan, which is quite extensive. Phoebe's family is close friends with the lot, but Hugo is directly inside of it, and I rely on him for insights. I am considering giving him a higher up position in the Quidditch Strategy Club. Hugo, lastly, is one of the only people who can make me laugh.

My biggest objective, my biggest _dream, _is to be head girl. I have never wanted anything more, and people who are involved, responsible, and business orientated, are head material.

:::

"Have you begun thinking about the quidditch match yet, Edith?" asked Phoebe, who for the entire time she was across from me at the table, was quietly exploring different ways to fold her napkin.

"Yes, I thought about it for some time in the shower," I replied, spreading apple butter on my toast. I spent a while feeling conflicted about it, actually...

"It's the last game of the year," she said. I sneered in distaste without looking at her.

"If you want to be head girl, you need to show school spirit. And think of Hugo. This is a big game for him. He deserves your support." Phoebe was really good at pointing things out, and making you realize how obvious everything should be. She is a great advisor, as embarrassing as it is to say.

She got up from the bench and gathered her things. She has dancercise on Wednesday mornings before late breakfast. This is something she headed, and loves it. I am quite proud of her.

I used to do it with her; only I need early breakfast to eat, so that I have time during late breakfast to clean the dorm. That's when all the girls aren't there, and I have my hour of peace.

I looked around me primly. A few seventh years sat talking a few yards away from me, and the Gryffindor table was completely empty. A dozen Hufflepuffs were all looking at something interesting on the table.

I sighed. I love people watching. I could make an observational journal about it, perhaps. I'm sure that it would be a good writing exc-

"Pardon," someone barked behind me, interrupting my thoughts.

I turned around carefully, raising my eyebrows attentively. Albus Potter stood there with his hand grasping the back of his neck. His hair was wildly un-brushed, and he was missing his tie and prefect badge.

"How can I help you?" I asked suspiciously.

"Where is everyone? He asked simply. I took another look around me, lingering on the empty Gryffindor table for a second and then back at him.

"I suspect they're sleeping," I said, tapping my chin. Albus squinted his eyes. He looked quite tired.

"What time is it, then?" He sat down as he said this, rubbing his eyes.

"Around seven." I expected him to be surprised by this, and angry that he had woken up earlier than he thought, but instead he nodded, plucked a grape from the fruit basket and popped it in his mouth.

"I have a feeling you need to be informed of some things, so I'm just going to start, ok?" I said cautiously, feeling slightly uneasy. He looked at me with a face I couldn't read.

"We are at early breakfast, which goes from six-thirty to seven-thirty. There are a few select regulars, including me, who come every morning, if not for scheduling purposes, then for a nice quiet chew. Professor Longbottom, is the early breakfast teacher, and is here every morning reading the prophet." I paused and Albus winced.

"Every now and then Bonnie Finnegan and Nicole Darling come, but they are the only Gryffindors who ever do. You are missing your badge and tie."

He put his head into his arms on the table without saying a word.

"I'm finished now. Maybe you should go back to sleep." I just wanted to eat my breakfast.

"I can't sleep in when I'm hung over," he replied, as if it was a completely normal thing to say.

"Drink some water if you must," I said shortly, figuring he must need some advice, if all he's doing is lying there on the breakfast table. Right when I was about to stand up to leave he picked his head up and looked at me.

"What's your name again?"

"Edith Stradeki," I said, trying to hide my indignance. Those quidditch lads and their ignorance is unbelievable.

"Oh yeah... You're the bird in the Quidditch Strategy Club."

I bristled at this.

"I'm the "bird" who_ founded_ the Quidditch Strategy Club."

"Oh," he said simply, looking at me up and down again. "You play?"

"No, but I saw the demand, and I would be daft to ignore the passion people have for it. I also figured if your going to play the sport, you should put your brain into it."

"I would join, but I'm too busy."

I straightened when he said this. What a lie. All Albus Potter ever did was quidditch, drink, and a little bit of homework. Of course he has such a great GPA, he has all the time in the world to study. He's not involved with anything else.

"Excited for the game tomorrow?" he asked.

"I don't think I'm going."

"But everyone's going. Is the castle even open when there's a game?"

"Of course it is," I replied meekly, feeling bombarded by this kid. He was kind of messing up my routine, and it was making me itchy.

"Well it'll be the game of the decade. You should go." Then he got up, holding a bagel. "See you around, Ed."

I watched him go.

"What the bloody hell?" I asked myself unceremoniously.

Professor Longbottom had walked over to me by then. "Since when do you let people call you Ed?"

"Well, no one has ever tried."

:::

I walked through the portrait hole and two fifth years were sitting on the big sofa snogging. It's seven in the morning. WHO DOES THAT? Usually I would just wait by the fire until all the girls left, but I don't want to sit in on the PDA that's happening here. I went upstairs.

My dorm is the very last one, all the way at the end of the hall. As I walked down, my door opened Scorpius Malfoy backtracked out.

Not knowing what to do, and not wanting to be seen by him, I ran into the nearest room. I hugged the closed door hoping to hear him walk past.

"Erm... what are you doing?" I heard someone ask behind me. I turned around, it was a very petite red headed girl rummaging through her trunk. She's a fourth year, I forget what her name is. I heard voices in the bathroom.

"Sorry, I'll just be going."

I snuck back into the hall, and Scorpius was at the end of it. He turned to face me, wincing.

"I was never here, alright?"

"We'll see," I replied. I had no reason to tell anyone what I saw...yet.

Arianna and Pippa both stood in front of the large mirror, chatting about something important while they put their hair up. I swear it's like they are one person.

They both looked at me through mirror's reflection, pausing whatever they were doing before to sneer at me.

I wonder if they think that I saw Scorpius. I really am not even curious about that. I'm slightly discussed, because Scorpius is a bloody whore, and I'm wondering as to how he got up here, but essentially I don't care.

I avoid their eye-contact, and pretend to do something important in my trunk.

"God, she's such a bore," Pippa says out loud.

"What a waste of a bed," Arianna replied. At that they took their things, and left, giggling a little bit on their way out.

Don't worry about me, I'm used to it. They used to just plain ignore me, but I said something offensive to them one time, and now I have to avoid them.

Unless I make eye contact with them in class or something, they leave me alone.

Heather came out of the bathroom.

"I hate those bloody fucking hoe-bags," she said. The girls never bothered Heather because she could easily hex them into the next country. It's not that I couldn't defend myself, it's that I didn't really care to. I don't like what anger does to me.

Heather and I have a good relationship. We're not friends, but I can trust her.

:::

Now about Scorpius Malfoy:

Generally he is just really good-looking. Easily the hottest bloke in school. But I know the secret, because I'm talented at seeing right through people. He is messed up in the head. Many pretty, smart, normal girls go out with him, and they have a quick relationship, sometimes merely just a shag or two, because as I've heard: "He never pressures you, but he makes you want to do it, whether your waiting to have sex or not." I don't know about anyone else, but I would never put myself in the situation. He dates a lot of sweet girls, and then breaks their hearts, and still they forgive him. It's completely bonkers.

I would ask Heather about why he was in our room, but she'll just say something vague about how useless drama is.

Rose Weasley, Hugo's sister and a Gryffindor in my year is the only girl he hasn't gotten his grips on, or so I've been told. Apparently he's wanted her for some time now, but she won't have him.

Well anyway that's the story. He's probably been shagging Arianna or something. I don't care what they do in the free time, as long as it doesn't hinder my sleep, or anything like that.

I spend the rest of the hour happily dusting and folding.


	2. In which Ed is harshly critiqued

**A/N: **So here's the second chapter. Please tell me what you think! Tell me what you think Edith is all about. Just so I know what impression she's making ;D

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

:::

Double Transfiguration with Slytherin is a nightmare if you want hands on fun. People get a lot of work done in that class. We all work together as the two snobbiest houses, and have a sort of cold kindred with each other. It's rather weird.

I use the time to sit with my Slytherin connections. Tammy Galley and Dom Foster. They are cousins and have the loveliest name assonance I've ever heard. McGonagal sets the three of us into a group, the objective being that we must work out how proportions will effect your transfiguration if you don't have the right mathematical concept, which is all rubbish to me right now. All I can really focus on is the spiffy peppery smell that seams to be coming from Dom.

"So I heard you were organizing something new," said Tammy.

"Yes! Muggle sports."

Tammy sneered, and Dom cocked his head to the side.

"That sounds like a whole lot of sweat," she said.

"For some people, exercising is fun," Dom countered.

"I ran the plans through with McGonnagal, and she gave me a list of things I need to do before it's possible. I think as long as I think of a good fundraiser we'll be okay."

I glanced up at the two of them and neither were listening any more.

It's fine. I have plenty of people who are interested.

I turned to Dom.

"Attending the match, Dom?"

"What else would I do," he said scribbling something down on parchment.

I'm sorry I had no idea that nothing was more important. I see by his face that it was a rhetorical question. Then I decided whether I was going or not.

"I'll see you there, then." He nodded impatiently. Tammy glanced at me and laughed. I have no idea on earth what for.

:::

I took longer than everyone else to vacate the classroom so that I could have a moment with McGonnagal. She stood there and watched me as I made believe that I was actually doing important things in my book bag.

"Yes, what is it, Ms. Stradeki?" I had not even gotten to her desk yet.

"Professor, I am fully aware that this is the time of year when you start considering students for the head boy and girl position."

She rolled her eyes, smiled and nodded her head. "You're right, as usual."

"There's not quite a delicate way of putting this, so I'll just come out and say it. I should be head girl."

She just looked at me.

"I understand if you are obligated to consider all of your options, but I just want to assure you that I am the best for the job."

Fourth years began to trickle into the classroom. By the look on her face, I started to panic a little. Maybe I should take a different approach. I'll switch confidence for humility. I let my facial expression crumble. Subtly, I don't want her to think I'm fake.

"Professor, I need this position. If there are things that you think I should work on to secure it, I would appreciate the tips."

She smiled. Success!

"Maybe you have to much on your plate as it is."

I shook my head desperately. She continued. "Perhaps you'll work on that." She shooed me away but called out to me before I was gone. "I usually choose head girls who are attentive in class too, ms. Stradeki.

:::

I had Ancient Runes next, where I began to bubble map ideas for the muggle sports fundraiser, and I filled out the bi-weekly meeting schedule for HHUL.

Please don't worry. I took McGonnagal's advice to heart, but I still have to get those things done.

I decided that I have to work harder on finder new stewards. I made a chart of certain organizations and prospective leaders for them. To be honest, it's discouraging, the thought of giving up authority. I don't want any of them to go to waste and fall apart.

But I was _made_ to be head girl. It ranks number one on my priority list.

By the end of class I had a lot done. I wrote down what the homework was for next class, (I'll always be able to figure that out later... We have a very large library here at Hogwarts, and a very helpful Homework club every other night).

After class, I spotted Tucker, Heather and Phoebe sitting near the top end of the Ravenclaw table in the great hall. Heather was giving phoebe a disdainful look, and Phoebe was trying to explain herself, angrily.

"Heather stop being a cow. Phoebe doesn't want a blue hat, she's in a different house," Tucker said munching on a bacon sandwich. I really didn't want to sit in on that conversation. I sat down sideways and Slughorn stood up in front of everyone, tapping his throat with his wand, and speaking in a loud booming voice.

"Settle yourselves, please! I need to address something that you all should be aware of. Firstly, tomorrow's match between Hufflepuff and Gryff-"

He was interrupted by very loud cheers throughout two of the four long tables. I glanced over to Gryffindor, and Albus was doubling over laughing as Fred Weasley stood on a bench and cried a mighty war sound.

"Yes, yes. We are all very excited. I'm sure most of you know, but for those who don't, lend me your ears: The match will begin early tomorrow... at ten o'clock due to storm warnings. Your first period classes will end at nine twenty, so that everyone will have time to bundle up and head down to the pitch."

Somebody in Hufflepuff 'whooped' and everyone laughed. Slughorn looked like he was wrapping up, and I took the opportunity. I hopped out of my chair and ran up to where he was standing near the staff table.

"Yes, what is it, Ms. Stradeki?" I loudend my voice the way he did, and he got the idea.

"I have a few announcements as well."

Everyone was completely quiet.

"We only have a couple weeks left of school, everyone, and I wanted to get this out to all of you now to avoid wasting time."

"I believe we need more fitness in this school, especially for those who don't, and can't, play quidditch." Somebody near the front of Slytherin table mumbled something snide and the group around him snickered.

"So I have been researching muggle recreation, and it truly is extensive!" I paused for dramatic effect and look around. I had their attention. "Games like dodge ball, where you pelt each other with rubber balls, Frisbee golf, where you toss disks around for some reason, I don't know why but it looks fun. And last but definitely not least muggle football!" I see a few smiles at this, and am encouraged. "Which is the most popular sport in the world. I watched a TV show about it, and it looks very exciting."

Some voice piped up from the Gryfindor table. "I saw people doing it, and all they do is kick a ball around. Why is that fun?"

I roll my eyes as if what she said was ludicrous, searching for an answer in my brain. I haven't finished all of my research yet. "Why do you play quidditch?" I ask in a rhetorical manner. Pippa Dorey, the Ravenclaw seeker, and my roommate, answers.

"Because it's high up in the air and it's fast and exciting. Nothing compares, and no one cares about your stupid club." I hear Dom yell something at her from across the room. I disregarded what the stupid cow said.

"Quidditch takes skill, and concentration. Football takes skill, concentration, and a really fit body. I run on my own free time, and I know of a few others who do. I would love the opportunity to run _while _I'm playing a game with an objective. Doesn't anyone beside quidditch players exercise anymore?" All was quiet. I saw a few nods, Phoebe's smile, and a satisfied look from Dom. Tammy and Heather looked quite bored, and then I saw Albus and Lily Potter, and they were smiling nodding, _and_ discussing what I was talking about.

Hey if I can get some Gryffindors into this, then I'll have a good slathering of students.

"So when is it?" Tucker yells.

"Well it can't be organized this late in the year, so it starts next term. But I would like to know who is interested. I have ensured sign up lists on the boards in your common rooms. Write your name down if you want to be involved."

I hear a cough. That's my queue, I guess.

"Thank you all very much. Have a wonderful rest of the day."

The hall burst back into its usual noise as I skipped off stage and into my seat.

"That was successful!" beamed Phoebe.

"Cheers," I raised my glass of apple juice at her.

A sixth year Gryffindor walked across the isle to me.

"You should include American football as well," he said, leaning over onto our table next to me, his eyes wide. I don't know what the variation is in the states, but I nod, appreciating his enthusiasm. "Do you know how to play?"

"Well, yeah, I'm muggle-born, I grew up playing." His hair was dark and curly, and his eyes, I kept noticing were a very dark brown.

"What's your name?"

"David," he replied

"David, I was wondering if you could be my games advisor for the Muggle Sports Guild?" I asked him as I stood up and shook his hand.

"Erm... okay," he looked apprehensive.

"Don't worry, it will require little work on your part. I will set everything up, and then I will notify you when it all starts. You would be my main resource on how the games are played."

"That actually sounds pretty cool." He smiled, and I hear Heather laugh behind me. "Alright then I'll see you around." He waved to the three behind me, and he lingered on Phoebe and smiled before turning and sitting back with his friends.

Phoebe's face was all red, and she was pushing a piece of crust around on her plate.

"Cheer up, Phebes, you have a great dancersie following, no ones going to abandon you."

Now Tucker laughs. I am always out of the joke for some reason.

:::

The rest of my day is full of activities, and altogether dull.

Three more classes, a Herbology club meeting, Dinner, which was uneventful, and then homework group in the library at seven. Charms seem to have gotten me confused, but I ended up with a well enough paper.

Hugo walked me back to the towers. He was going about some girl that I didn't know or care about. Just another lay-about flirt.

"...And then she kind of flicked her hair to the side and said thank you. I couldn't stop watching her after she took my quill, though becau-"

"Don't let pretty girls distract you, Hugo."

"No – I mean she was chewing on it the entire time. Who does that? Borrows someone quill, bat their eyelashes, and then slobbers all over the thing. I'm glad the cow didn't give it back."

"Why did you snog her last night, then?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Come one, Edie, she's the hottest girl in my year."

"Yes, I suppose that counts." He nodded, laughing at my exasperation.

There was a comfortable silence for a while, going up the stars, but then Hugo stopped and looked at me.

"I need to find you a bloke," he said. I could feel the blush creep on my cheeks.

"Stop!" I said moving away from him, with my hands on my cheeks.

"Don't you ever just feel like... fancying someone!" he cries passionately running after me.

"I don't have time," I said as I quicken my pace.

"Edie, you've got to _make time_ for these things. Someday you'll regret going through all of the best years of your life without falling for someone."

I stopped to sit down on a bench. I truly hate it when people force emotion out of me. "Falling for someone isn't in my immediate agenda."

"Are you worried that nobody likes you?" That kind of hurt. I don't respond. "Well you don't have to, because I can think of at least four blokes who said they thought you were fit. All you need to do is take your hair down or something. And stop wearing turtlenecks..."

At the same time I'm offended and intrigued, the latter shows through better.

"Who?" I ask in a sheepish voice, tugging at my collar. A big group of first years pour past us, and Hugo waits for them to leave.

"'Who' is unimportant. Don't you see, Edie? You have the potential to hook plenty of guys. You just don't give anyone the time of day. And you don't really give yourself the time of day either." I squirm in my seat. "I've got to go," he said.

"Okay, I'll meet you near the astronomy tower for rounds."

He smacked his forehead. "Oh yeah! I forgot to tell you. I asked Albus to switch with me cause I have a detention."

"Hugo," I reproached.

"I'm late now, but I told him where to meet you. See you later Edie."

He stepped away, and I sat there still trying to recover from what he told me.

:::

There is this phenomenon that I don't have a name for, but I wrestle with quite often.

So say you learn a new word. You never heard this word before, and you look up the meaning, and your like 'right then, I know what it means now, don't know when I'll ever need it.'

And the from then on, the word just starts making itself visible to you. You see it all the time now, in books, on posters, in conversation.

Obviously it's because you didn't give a spit about the word in the first place, so now once you know it, you can pick it out.

But another part of me thinks 'why is it popping up all over the place _now_? Right after I learn it.' I'm sure you've felt this before.

Well the same thing is happening to me, except with a person.

Albus Potter was leaning against the banister with his hands in his pockets chatting with a painting when I came upon him.

"Well I usually start a game day with a very large breakfast, really rich in fiber and carbs, but since the match is in the morning, I'm not going to stuff my self, that would be stupid."

"How are you going to get you protein, I heard protein was important for your muscles and stuff," replied the painting. It was a young monk holding a very large book.

"Now there's the misconception," Albus said, finally seeing me, waving vaguely and going back to his point. "You should eat protein, like a hard boiled egg or something, _after _your active, because it helps rebuild the cells in your muscles."

"Ahh I see," said the monk, who then turned to me. "Hello ms., are you who this young man is waiting for?"

"Yep," I replied.

"Let's go," said Albus, and we began to walk up the stair of the tower. I always start going through the halls, and then double back through the tower so we don't miss anything, but I don't care enough to correct him, I always schedule him for late night rounds on the first floor.

"I'm thinking about joining your muggle sports club," he said conversationally. This made me smile.

"Excellent!"

"Actually a lot of Gryffies signed their name." I beamed this time. Now I know I can start asking Gryffindors if they want to be involved in the government of the club. If I want to be head girl, I can't be using all of my energy taking care of another club. Everyone in that house is a natural born leader, I don't see why they don't automatically step up to the plate.

"If you talk too, this will go by faster," he pointed out.

"Okay," I obliged, "I've decided to attend your match."

"That's a no-brainer," he said caustically.

"A lot of people are making it into a date, which seems weird to me, but whatever. Are you going with anyone?"

I thought back to the conversation I had with Hugo, and felt torn between telling the truth, and making it seem like I was as 'wanted' as Hugo made it seem.

"Dom Foster asked me to sit with him. I had no idea that it was supposed a date, though," I say innocently, and guiltily. Dom never said anything like that, but I like the way Albus turns up his lip and nods as if he's impressed.

He wasn't, though.

"He must be bloody disappointed Slytherin lost. It was because of him as well."

Dom isn't like that. He truly just likes to play Quidditch, I didn't hear the entire story but he's a beater, and I think it was a mistake penalty on his part that screwed up his game. Dom didn't care desperately about winning like Scorpius Malfoy, or Albus was for that matter. He enjoyed the game in every aspect: playing and watching it. I liked Dom for that. It was a hobby that made him happy, not an obsession that made him crazy. I raised my eyebrow at Potter.

"I'm sure he regrets it," I say, brushing it off. "I've never been to a quidditch game," I add, just out of speculation.

Albus stops where he is with his jaw hanging open. "_Seriously?_"

"Erm – yes, seriously," I replied, not seeing what the big deal was.

"Have you ever _lived?_" I was getting tired of his dramatics. So I ignored the question, and he picked up on the queue.

"So I heard you were counting on being head girl next year." I nodded my head emphatically. "Well I heard Slughorn talking to Longbottom, and they were saying how it ought to be me and you."

I picked up my head at this.

"You heard that?"

"Yeah, but then Sinistra was all, 'she doesn't pay enough attention in class, she's too busy managing those stupid clubs, blah blahh," he trailed off, studying my reaction carefully.

"Yes, I know all that, already. I just have to fix those assumptions."

"Or you could just not be as involved," he said. My face dropped in horror.

"Who wants a lazy head girl?" I asked calmly but angrily.

"You're kind of infuriating!" He snapped, finally taking his hands out of his pockets. "I've seen you around, Ed. You walk around as if you're better than everyone. Everything you do has to have some sort of twisted diplomatic perk to be worth your time!"

"Don't call me Ed!" I said, biting my tongue, and trying hard not to burst in anger.

"It just irks me to no end, seeing a sixth year who doesn't do anything for pleasure."

"_Of course _I have fun, did it ever occur to you that these things I do are hobbies of mine?"

"Quiddtch strategy isn't a hobby for you, you told me yourself!" He was really overreacting.

"That's just one thing."

"We have Herbology together. I've heard you say how much you dislike it, and you are the president of the _Herbology Club? _That's twisted."

I sputtered in anger. What could I say? This kid was attacking me for no reason.

"Mind your own business!"

"When have you ever just sat around and talked to your friends? I don't think I've ever heard you laugh!"

"I laugh all the time." I protested, my voice getting higher. He was pushing me too far. "Calm down!"

"You can't even argue! Blimey, you're not normal. You're emotionally void!"

"I'm not like other girls, Potter, I have control over my feelings. Verbal conflict is for babies." I got pretty close to exploding there.

"I'd rather be with a girl who cries at everything I say, than someone who is numb to her own feelings."

I want to scream at him at the top of my lungs. What a prick! Why does he feel the need to criticize me like this, I have never had anything to do with him. But I won't satisfy his argument. He looks down at my fists, which are all balled up. Before he can look back up to my face I spin around and walk away as calmly and apathetically as possible.

Except on the inside I feel like he's cut me through and through.


	3. In which a day is bad

**A/N: **

I wish I could post the chapter images I made on here... oh well!

Have a nice read, and please review my writing, I like compliments, of course, but I appreciate instruction most of all. If you don't like it please tell me why, because there is always a reason!

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><p>Chapter 3<p>

Last night I had trouble sleeping. For a while I wasn't even thinking about falling asleep, I was dwelling on what Albus had said

And then I realized what nonsense that was, and cast a sleeping charm on myself.

I haven't been spectacular with charms lately, and I slept through breakfast and half of my Herbology class.

It was awful! How do people do that to themselves every morning? The moment you wake up and look at the clock, the fright I gave myself felt like a heart attack. I jumped out of bed and frantically put clothes on. I didn't have a hard time matching, or anything, because all of my uniform clothes are either blue, grey, or black. I can never go wrong. All of my pants were dirty, so I had to wear a skirt and tights.

I looked in the mirror. My hair looked terribly dirty, but I was extremely late. My whole day would be off now. I pulled it tight into a ponytail and put some baby powder on my roots. I washed my face, brushed my teeth and ran out of the tower.

Without my books.

I ran back up the stairs, and I found my texts, but my planner was missing. I rummaged through the scattered clothes on the ground, but it was nowhere. That's when I freaked out entirely.

I actually cried a little bit in frustration. As I started down the moving stairs, the very same person who caused all of this was on the stairs that were rotating, being connected to the one that I was on.

I remember something I read where if your feeling distressed, take a deep breath and adjust your posture. At worse It will seem like you have allergies.

"Late aswell?" he asked. How dare he look so non-chalante. I didn't know what to say, so I ignored him, and kept hurrying to class.

"Slow down!" he called, "I want to talk to you!"

"I'm late for class, and so are you." He grabbed my book bag to hold me back a bit.

"Once your twenty minutes late, it doesn't matter how late you are after that," he told me. "We've missed half the class, might as well take our time getting there."

The logic is twisted, but I was too tired and hungry to call him out.

"What's wrong?"

I looked over; his face was wrought with concern.

This bloke is bloody bipolar.

I couldn't actually tell him about how the fight we had put me into an insomniac fit.

"I've never been late in my life." I wince as my eyes begin to water up again, and Albus walked closer to me.

"Never?" he asked, disbelieving.

I shook my head, and finally wiped the hideous wetness off my cheeks.

"Well listen, I have something to say."

"Oh dear."

"I was up pretty late thinking about you." This sent a small unfamiliar jolt through me. We stepped out of the entrance hall, and down on the path to the greenhouses. "And I just wanted say that I was sorry... For being so harsh to you."

I noticed I was drooping my head and looking at our walking feet in consideration, so I picked myself up and regained composure.

"Thank you for apologizing," I said.

"Your welcome," he replied apprehensively, squinting at me.

We arrive to the greenhouses, and Longbottom waves us in.

"It's about time, mates. I don't want to know where you've been, just take a pot of pomegrite seeds, and find a seat.

I hated the feeling of not being up to speed with everyone else. We took seats across from each other. As he sat, Albus rustled the hair of the kid next to him playfully. That was Daniel Spottinger, and he was in Ravenclaw. He's in the Latin club, and has always been a prick to me. He's pretty good at Latin though, I wonder if I could troub-

"Edith! Pay attention, this will be on your NEWTs next year. Important stuff to know. I straighten and listen carefully. If I want a job in the ministry when I leave Hogwarts, I need to be a good student. I have sort of been neglecting my grades lately.

I took a whole page of notes on the effects and dangers of the pomegrite seeds. I look into the pot and they are wiggling around each other. I grimace at the disgusting creatures, and Albus across from me laughs. He's holding a whole handful of them, and I give him my best I-don't-care-what-your-doing-so-please-stop-trying-to-show-off face.

I drop a leaf in for them to munch on. Longbottom was droning on about this time where he blah blahh, I don't really care, an-

My stomach makes a largely audible grumbling noise, and I hug my middle desperately.

I'm so hungry. It's about two and a half hours since I usually would have eaten.

The girl next to me elbows me lightly in the side.

"I'm hungry too," she says uselessly.

"I missed breakfast," I respond, and then bring my head back up to listen to the lesson.

My stomach wretches again, but this time it's so loud that even Longbottom looks up.

He ignores it the first time, but it keeps happening, louder and louder.

"Edith, your not starving yourself are you?" My jaw dropped. Of course I'm not! I'm late for your class, don't you connect that I merely slept in.

"No." I told him more calmly than I felt. "I missed breakfast."

"I have a granola bar here, would you like it?" Everyone looked at me. Well I had no choice, did I? So I walked up to him and accepted it.

"Thanks."

"Hey Ed, I have an apple, do you want that too?" I scanned the room with a small scowl on my face. Albus was holding up the apple. Tucker, who was a few seats down from him, snickered.

Without responding I sat down back across from him.

"Thanks," I said again, remorsefully taking the apple. I would have snobbily declined it, but we're in the middle of the class, and that would be rude.

"Please don't call me that," I whispered as an afterthought, but he was pretending not to hear me.

Prick.

We started to strain the seeds under tampered sprinkling auguamenti spell and into our own small cauldrons. The idea was to make a goop of them for an ingredient for certain basic cleaning potions.

The girl next to me was leaning across the table to grab a ladle from somebody. Her stupid little elbow hit my cauldron.

All of a sudden there was bright red sticky rubbish all over my lap.

"Oh no! I am _so _sorry!" she said as she began swatting at my clothes to get it off.

"STOP," I said firmly, "I've got it." I looked up pleadingly at Longbottom.

"Go ahead and clean off Edith, we were rapping up anyway."

I turned and hurried back outside as quickly as I could.

As I left my dormitory, I was still feeling completely out of sorts. I could only change my clothes; I didn't have time to take a shower.

Halfway through the defense wing I realized I didn't have my book with me.

So I ran back down to the greenhouses to get it.

"Tucker grabbed it for you," said Longbottom, in front of a huge group of first years. "He's probably at your next class."

As I ran back up to the castle, my eyes were stinging with tears again.

What an awful day.

In defense class – to which I was fifteen minutes late – Tucker motioned to the seat next to him, where my text was out and to the right page a parchment rested with notes written on it, and my quill was lined up nicely to it. It looked as if I had been there the whole time.

I _had been _planning on yelling at him for making me walk back and forth, but this was a nice gesture, so I smiled sadly and thanked him as I sat.

Near the end of class we had a surprise quiz, and I don't think I did well.

_Finally_ it was lunchtime. As tucker and I walked to the dining hall, a girl from calligraphy club, Venti Chalen, told me that another kid in the club was talking smack about me after a session. Venti told me he said my handwriting was "too generic," and that I "Wasn't even trying."

Well great, the people I share interests with, the people that I relate to the best, are turning on me. I had never done anything wrong to him. Bloody hell why are things starting to fall apart!

I sat down next to Heather at the Ravenclaw table without saying a word, and started organizing together a pastrami sandwich.

I ate it and it was ruddy delicious. I was excellent at making sandwiches. Sometimes Tucker asked me to fix one up for him, just because I had the touch. The Wizarding Cooking Club is one of my favorite hobbies for a reason.

After Lunch was a fifteen-minute free time, so I utilized it to talk to McGonnogal again.

"I don't mean to be a bother, professor, but I was wondering how your decision making was going?" I cocked my head to the side innocently.

"It's coming along," she said, peering at me over her glasses.

"I'm going to the quidditch game!" I said enthusiastically. "And I'm going to start designating leaders over clubs."

"That is very wise, Edith."

"I'm going to stop going to the clubs that I am not as committed to, providing the people involved are prepared to take over."

"Thank you for taking my advice."

I shifted onto my other hip and scratched the back of my dirty head.

"I just want you to realize how important this position is for me."

"I know it is," she said. Her voice sounded understanding, and it gave me a bit of comfort.

"Can you give me more pointers?"

"Just keep working on your balance," she said vaguely.

I nodded. "Thanks," I said, and then I left.

I know I put on a sort of bullshit show in there, but I have to nurture different objectives in my life.

But maybe she's right. Head girl is a full time job, it will be hard to keep everything organized and up to par. During Runes I make a list.

**Clubs and activities priority list. **(Highest to lowest importance to me.)

The Prefects Guild. 

It is not as important to _me _as it is to the school in general. It doesn't take very much energy, and I'm not the president...yet, but it's an easy priority number one.

Houses of Hogwarts Unity League [HHUL]

This is an important cub. It's about the prestige. And we really do take a lot of action. Blood prejudice is practically archaic now, and we deal with conflict resolution.

Quidditch Strategy Club

As important as this club is, there is enough enthusiasm that I could probably stop attending meetings. Hugo will be fully capable of keeping things ordered. I only have to ask him first.

Homework Club

The biggest attendance. It's in high demand, and all I do is show up and do homework with everyone.

Wizarding Kitchen Skills Club

It's so high up because it's honestly just my favorite club. I love to cook. This one stays.

Jogging Team

We hardly ever meet because there is so little of us, and we only get together when it's a nice day outside, so it's not worth quitting.

Wizarding-Giant Alliance [WGA]

Maybe I can ask Heather if she wants to take over for me here. To be perfectly honest I just don't have the conviction for it like she does.

Herbology Club

As much as I hate this club, and herbology in general, there is a large following. I'll hold an election, and step down from my position.

Calligraphy Club

The kid talking about me was right. I have pretty bad handwriting. Ill hand the whole thing over to him.

Latin Club

This isn't even mine, professor Lupin heads it, and I attend most of the meetings. No one would notice if I just stopped going.

Magical Aquadica Society

It was failing anyways. I don't know what I'll do about it.

:::

Making that list made me tired and weary. I have a lot of work to do. I have to find people to take charge for four clubs, quit three, and discuss the demise of one.

How many people am I going to anger doing this?

Well I truly have no concern about _that_, it's just... these are my creations. I'm attached to them.

:::

Because My planner is still missing, I walk into an empty classroom where the Magical Aquadica Society usually meets. I run into a third year who is a member on my way back through. I bite her head off for forgetting about the meeting, and she meekly corrects me. Their meetings on Friday afternoons.

During Homework Club (which I was late to), Phoebe sits next to me and asks me how I'm doing. I snap at her and tell her about the terrible day I had.

"I have those days all the time," she replies.

"_But I never do,_"

"Don't take it so personally," she says, before getting up in a huff and sitting at a different table next to that David bloke.

Since when does he come to Homework Club?

He's sitting awfully close to my Phoebe. Stop touching her arm like that!

Ugh!

I get up in a hurry to step outside the library for a while. It's kind of like getting air, but not.

Albus Potter, of course saunters past me.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," I reply shortly.

"You appear to be seething," I eye him murderously, and then take a deep breath.

"What happened this time?"

"Some Gryffindouche that we talked to for the first time yesterday is getting all sweet on Phoebe!"

"Gryffindouche?" he starts laughing. "That's awesome!" he doubles over a little laughing harder. "I gotta start using that!" He looks up at my unamused face and tries to bite back his unattractive guffawing. "Who's the bloke? Do you need me to ruff him up?"

What a tool.

"His name is David, he looks Jewish."

His face lit up. "David? He's a great kid! Why don't you like him?"

"Phoebe is like my baby sister, I refuse to watch someone drooling over her"

"Hey, you kind of sound human right now. Real emotions!" I give him a blank stare. "You have nothing to worry about, though, he's a nice guy. Admiral, even."

"But still-" I pout.

"He would be daft not to like Phoebe, she's great. Pretty, and nice..."

I look at him horrified.

"Her family comes over every holiday, I've known them my whole life, and I wouldn't want anything to happen to her either."

He only looks at me side long for a couple seconds.

"Loosen up! I feel like your shoulders are always up to your ears."

"I am afraid I don't know what you're talking about," I say, turning to go back into the library, and then being practically run over by the vacating homework club.

As the crowd clears, I see David leaning casually on the table, hunched quite close to her. His hair is in his eyes. It seems that look – the slouchy laid-back look – is his trade mark. Well I think it's messy and ingenuine.

Phoebe is sitting with her books all organized on the table, and she's smiling up at him. Her legs are crossed primly.

I don't think he should waste energy on her. They are so different. Her hair is always neat, and she wears matte makeup. She's a sweet preppy girl, and he is a sloppy hormonal boy.

"Just let them be," says Albus behind me. I jump in surprise, forgetting he was there.

"Why is she doing this?"

Albus shrugs.

"Why!"

"Calm down!" he looks confused as to why I am making such a big deal out of it. "They're fifteen, this is a normal thing." I remain quiet, and shift my gaze back to the two of them.

It was never normal for _me._

"Well I'm going to back to the dorm," he says, already walking, waving to me behind him. "See you later, Ed."

"DON'T– ahh forget it!"

David walks past me, smiling goodbye, and I go in after Phoebe.

After homework club every night, we stay an extra while, to catch up, plan, and what have you.

I decide that I don't want to mention the David thing. I'm so tired, I can't deal with that sort of thing right now.

She has a pink tint on her cheeks, and it makes her look even prettier than usual. I feel miffed, and maybe a little jealous. Why didn't boys ever talk to me like that?

"So I have collected all of the muggle sports sign up sheets from the common rooms," she says, professionally, tapped the stack of paper on the table.

How can I stay mad at her forever? I can't. She is terrific.

"I don't think there should be any hurry with taking them down, we won't truly start it until next term."

"Well I started with taking Gryffindor's down because both sheets were full with signatures," she beams. "And then I went to the other dorms, and everyone else was pretty full, except for Ravenclaw."

"That figures," I say, not surprised. We aren't the most active of houses. I turn back to her with a big smile. "This is excellent! Let me take a look." She hands them to me and I scan the first page, from Gryffindor. "Bonnie Finegan, Terrance Phillips, Elena Kondracki – she will be a nice addition..." I mumble a few more names. "Albus, Potter, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley... Alastor Shacklebolt. Oh, he's in seventh year, I don't think he got the memo..."

"He has to retake the entire year," she informs me.

"Ahh, good then."

I pause and sit back in my chair in amazement. "I have never seen so much enthusiasm from Gryffindor!" I realize that within the last ten minutes, the stresses of my bad day have melted mostly away.

We spend the rest of an hour looking up books on information about sports, and we take out a few books on transfiguration recreational supplies. I will spend the least amount of money on this, if I can.

Tonight, I sleep well.


	4. In which a celebration happens anyway

**A/N: Pretty long chapter here. I've been kind of obsessed with writing this fic, and the homework that I have been avoiding for a week and a half pails an insignificance to the amount of work I've put into this.**

**So I hope you like it :) Tell me what you think in the doobly-doo down there. It's labeled reviews, I think.**

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

Breakfast was a like experiencing a great national uprising. A completely out of control riot. People were in a jolly mood, and then they got insulted and started throwing smack talk, at least those are the words I keep on hearing.

"Who are you rooting for?" asked Tucker beside me, smiling at all the goings on. I mulled it over a bit while I chewed a muffin.

"Hufflepuff," I declared throwing my hands in the air. "I choose the underdog."

"Bullshit!" I hear Hugo's voice behind me. I turn around wincing, I forgot about Hugo being on the Gryffindor team. He is made of red and gold right now, there is paint all over his face, like a lot of other people have. I notice a few girls who have his number 5 on their cheeks.

"Alright then, I'll root for Gryffindor... but only for your sake," I said, glancing wearily at Albus and Lysander Scamandar who were huddled together.

"Well since your alliance is with me, you've got to wear my scarf," he said, draping it over my shoulders.

"Why?"

"Because I always get my current girlfriend to wear it for a match, and since I don't have one right now, I needed to find a pretty face who can sport it for me."

"Yes, okay," I relented wearily.

"Thanks, Ed," he cried happily and hopped away.

"What is up with this Ed fad?" I asked myself tiredly, rubbing my eyes.

"You should just let them," Tucker said to my right.

"Why on earth would I do that?"

"Because, in case you haven't noticed, the Head Girl is always popular."

My jaw dropped to the floor. I never heard it put like that, but now that it's mentioned, it's blatant.

"I suspect that the headmaster needs to choose someone everyone likes, other wise she has no respect. She's always smart, of course, and a good leader, like you are, but also, she is always pretty and popular."

I couldn't believe what he was saying, but of course, it was true. Tucker was good at figuring things out like that, and it made sense.

"And whenever you're given a positive or endearing nickname, you're liked."

"Oh, wow, I've never been _liked _before," I said, and then I put my hands in front of my mouth in shock. Since when am I sarcastic?

"Attention, everyone!" this came from Dominique Weasley standing up on the staff table. She's the prettiest girl at school, and the coolest, in my book. She has a boy's fun attitude, and a girl's beauty and grace. Now that girl is popular. Oh yeah - _she is head girl._

"Our teams are headed down to the pitch, let's all give them a hell of a cheer!"

My hearing shorts out after that.

:::

In the dorm after breakfast, we have a little while to get ready to go down to the match. Now I've never been to one, but seeing as how people are not dressed in their uniforms, it's a casual event.

So I put on some jeans, and a tight black jumper, instead of my usual button up and pea coat. What Tucker said about Head Girls was true. I need to look the part.

Usually I would put my hair in a ponytail, and worn a warm headband, but it's pretty warm outside, and everyone else is worrying about their hair, so I leave mine down. It's curling a little from the bun I had it in, which is good.

My hair's gotten longer than I thought. I do that thing that normal girls always do, where they rake their hand through their hair slightly off center and then flip it over sort of. Now I have that attractive cowlick that I never knew was possible with my hair. What a bloody shallow life girls lead.

I go a little heavier on the eyeliner than usual, grab Hugo's scarf and I'm out the door.

:::

As I get down to the entrance hall, people are still pretty rowdy. I find Phoebe and Tucker talking to that David kid.

Phoebe sees me and does a little hop.

"Edith you look pretty! I never see your hair down!"

David smiles, and Tucker's mouth is just open as he stares. I look at him guiltily.

"Diplomatic strategy," I explain, keeping my head high. I might need to look like everyone else, but I refuse to sacrifice my posture.

The crowd starts moving, and Tucker holds onto my elbow to talk to me as we walk.

"I see you are taking my advice seriously," he says with a smirk.

"I'll do whatever it takes," I said firmly.

"Phoebe wants us to sit with a her and David in the Gryffindor stands."

"I was going to sit with Dom and Tammy," I explained.

"Well don't!" he said urgently.

I have never seen so much enthusiasm. Smiles are broad, and they all just look like a bunch of halfwits.

Scorpius Malfoy saunters past me and Tucker, and he double takes the sight of us. There's a strange look on his face, and when he reaches my eyes he looks back to his friends and pretends to laugh at one of their jokes.

Well that was weird. There's something going on there, and I don't want to get into it.

"People are checking you out," said Tucker. "How your hair looks makes a world of difference."

"I refuse to dignify that sad supposition with an answer. That is complete and utter rubbish!"

"Well it's true," David piped up from behind. I glance at Phoebe, and she looks pretty as well. I feel a rush of displeasure when I see how close they are walking. But wait. I pull her ear to my face

"Oh my god, are you wearing lipstick?" I whisper in shock. Phoebe wiggles out of my grasp.

"I don't understand why it's a crime to wear lipstick!"

"It's not a crime," I repeat, considering her reply. "You just never wear it. So you must have ulterior motives" She shrugs, and points to the Gryffindor stand stairs. We all haul up there. It's rather crowded; Tucker and I aren't the only Ravenclaws there.

"David, Phoebe! Over here!" I look to see who's calling and it's Rose Weasley. She's waving frantically in excitement, and her lush auburn hair is all over the place. Somehow I end up sitting down beside her and get squished by Tucker on the other side.

"Edith, right?" she says friendishly. I nod.

"And you're Rose?" I ask and hold out my hand. She shakes it.

"God, your gorgeous! I always wondered why we never met."

I was taken aback by her friendliness. Never had I met someone so open and nice. I wanted to dislike her because she was so perky, but I absolutely couldn't. She was entirely sincere, I could tell in her eyes.

So I said something completely out of character. I responded in a way that a girl-next-door would. In a way that a head girl would.

"Thanks, I've heard so many good things about you."

She smiled; she probably hears that all the time.

"Ditto, you hang out with my brother a lot. He told me the other day he took the last spot for the cooking club thing, and I was _really_ jealous."

"You could have signed up, the waiting list wasn't that long..."

Before she could respond, everyone around us stood up and cheered crazily. The players were walking out onto the pitch, and took off the ground in twos. They zipped past the stands cockily.

It was pretty cool!

Oh merlin. Now I'm talking like a teenager.

I'm able to keep up with the game most of the time. I _am_ on the Quidditch Strategy Club, anyways. Hufflepuff keeps a pretty stable lead through most of the first quarter.

Albus is pretty good. Not as good as his brother, or so I've heard, but he's scoring as much as a Potter should.

Rose hops up and down every time he does. She has more enthusiasm than a bloody puppy. And then I realize... Rose would be a pretty good Head Girl.

Shit.

So I start acting like I'm as interested, and it's easy because everyone else is. Tucker peers at me in amusement. He thinks that I'm actually enjoying myself.

Well I mean I kind of am, if he cant see the façade I'm putting up then no one would be able to. Phoebe couldn't because, well, she's just as busy putting her hands to her face and bouncing in excitement. It's just her style, I suppose.

About half way through I have to go to the bathroom, so I squeeze past everyone.

There are two lines for the boys' and girls' rooms, respectively. Dom gets into line across from me.

"So I guess I'm actually seeing you, now," he said caustically.

"I was dragged up to Gryffindor." I wasn't really dragged, I wanted to go, but why would I tell Dom that?

"Who's scarf is that?" he laughs at me. Bullocks, I forgot about that.

"Hugo's. I'm keeping it warm today since he has no harlots to give it to currently."

This time he laughs genuinely. I love that.

"Well, I'm rooting for Hufflepuff, they haven't won in a while, and Gryffs are pretty much just overconfident pricks, anyways." A few people in line sneer at him, and he doesn't seem to see or care. I feel the same about them, until I met Rose Weasley, anyway. I don't think I've ever met a nicer person.

I finally get to the bathroom, and on the way out of it, I hear a very large amount of cheering, and the announcer shouting something loudly.

I run to the ground bleachers and peer up.

"HUGO WEASLEY CAUGHT THE SNITCH! THE GAME IS OVER!"

I jump up and down in excitement, but everyone else around me has their angry faces on. I look at the scoreboard, and something's wrong.

Hugo caught the snitch, but they were behind in points still. I stood there and waited for the score to change but it never. It was flashing gloatingly.

"HUFFLEPUFF WINS! HUFFLEPUFF WINS BY TEN POINTS! UNVELIEVABLE!"

shouts the announcer, completely baffled.

"What happened?" I cry to the person next to me. It's a first year Slytherin and he grins at me maliciously in satisfaction.

"Gryffindor was so behind. Weasley did his math wrong, and caught the snitch at the wrong time."

"No!" I whimper. Why am I so torn up about this?

I see Hugo's face as he lands, and it's painted with devastation.

Oh. That's why.

:::

On the walk back, the Hufflepuff players parade on their brooms above everyone. A lot of people are cheering, and the other half held their heads low.

I hear two people discussing in front of me.

"A two hour game? It's bloody awful. Hugo has to be ashamed of himself. What a waste of a great catch."

"Too right," said his companion. "Gryffindor common room is going to be a dreary place tonight."

"That's why I'm spending the night at Hufflepuff. I like parties better there anyways. A bit more discreet. Professor Donaldson doesn't even check up in the common room there. Too far of a walk to the dungeons."

:::

I am able to find Rose in the dining hall during lunch, five minutes before I have a HHUL meeting.

"Where's Hugo, is he okay?" I ask, trying really hard to put a concerned face on.

Of course I really am concerned, I just haven't had much practice with appearing so.

"I was just going to go find him and Al, do you want to come along?"

I shifted nervously on my feet. "I have a HULL meeting in a few minutes."

"They can spare you, can't they? Hugo must be in shambles."

I thought about it anxiously. Would they be able to have a civilized meeting without me? Would they get any work done? It _is _the end of the year, and there's not much left to organize.

I _could _ask Tucker to take charge...

Oh god.

I nod to Rose and hold up a finger to her. "I'll be right back!"

"Tucker! I need your help!"

He stands up promptly with a worried look on his face.

"What's wrong!"

"I need you to organize the HHUL meeting."

"Okay," he says dutifully.

"What?"

"Okay, I'll do it," he repeats.

"It's not as easy as it sounds," I say, skepticism laced in my voice.

"Edie, I watch you do it all the time. I've got it covered."

I nod nervously and get back to Rose, and we leave to go up to Gryffindor tower. It's actually the first time I've been inside.

As we enter, I'm not surprised at all. The common room is basically a parallel of Ravenclaw's. The only difference is that it is extremely crowded.

Rose spots Dominique and calls her. As she turns around three guys stop to gawk at her impossibly glossy hair.

"Wotcher, Rose!"

Rose looks confused. "You guys are still going to have a party?"

Dominique sighs. "Yeah well we got enough alcohol, might as well use it tonight for an end of the year thing. Don't want any of it to go to waste." She turns to me with a crooked smile, and perfectly straight teeth. "You're invited too, of course, whoever you are."

She said it in a likeable mock rudeness. What makes these Gryffs so bloody friendly?

"Hugo up in his room?"

"Yeah, I think so," she replied grimly.

So we walked up to the boy's dormitory, passing a bunch of them on the way. The blokes here are pretty fit, but it doesn't make up for all the staring they do. Neanderthals. I don't know if I want to go tonight.

Wait - was I actually considering it?

Oh dear.

"Hugh?" Rose called from outside the fifth door.

The door opened and Albus's head popped out. All of a sudden I was feeling uncomfortable, but I kept my composure, pretending it didn't bother me. And apparently, it didn't bother him either, because he looked me up and down and smiled. Sadly, but he smiled.

"Come on in," he said, leaving the door open.

The entire Gryffindor quidditch team was lounging in the room, along with a couple others I didn't know. A few of them looked at me curiously, but mostly, they didn't care.

Hugo was lying on his face on the farthest bed, and Rose ran and jumped on him.

"Aahhgggg," he wailed, muffled by the pillow.

"Huiiee," she said in a heartbreakingly empathetic tone, as she hugged him tightly.

"Leave me alone!"

"You did what you had to do!"

"We still lost! Fred won't get his cup. I'm completely useless."

I was so confused. Hugo made a mistake and caught the snitch too early. It sounds like Rose is being too forgiving.

Albus tapped my arm. "You can sit if you want to. It looks like your quarantining yourself in the middle of the room like that." I primly sat down next to him on his bed. I knew it was his because of all the pictures of his family that were charmed onto the posts.

"You look confused," he said next to me. The group near us started laughing at something. They're not as torn up as I thought they'd be. Why aren't they mad at Hugo? Last time Ravenclaw lost they froze each other out for weeks.

I settled with "I missed Hugo's catch,"

"Ohh." He nodded his head in understanding. "Yeah, people don't really get what happened exactly. They jumped to a conclusion."

We looked at Rose and Hugo. She was lying there cooing at him.

"Donna Speckle, the Puff seeker was going to get the snitch. He practically grabbed it out of her hand."

"So since they were ahead, and she was about to get the snitch, he caught it just before she did so that-"

"So that we only lost by ten points instead of one hundred and sixty," he finished for me.

"He's such a hero," I mused, looking at him again.

"And he made one hell of an upset even more upsetting."

"He's wonderful," I said in admiration, looking at his fuzzy hair peaking out of a pillow.

:::

After I had talked to Hugo for a bit, I left the tower to help someone from the WGA with a letter. I went back to my dorm later, and all three of the girls were there.

I asked, and after they scoffed at my daftness, they told me they were going to the Hufflepuff party.

"It's going to be a rager," Arianna said, crackling her gum between her teeth.

"Are _you _going?" Pippa asked, taking lingering peaks at the tight jeans and casual t-shirt I was wearing. She looked apprehensive, but intrigued in a way.

"I was invited to what they were doing at Gryffindor," I told them. "It was planned to be a celebration for if they won, and decided to have it anyway." I had an awkward medium of having perfect language and talking like a teenager.

"It's going to be _wild _at Hufflepuff. Your missing out if you go to the other place"

Wait, what now? Were they giving me street-smart partygoer tips?

So when I put clothes on that they would wear, and torture my hair like they do every morning, they treat me like an equal?

It is so obvious that it could hardly be the answer!

I always thought I would gain respect for acting more like a mature adult. I would never have thought that demoting myself to their level would be how I could be considered on the same level.

Am I stupid? Why am I in Ravenclaw? I over think things so much that I just skim over and forget the simple solutions.

"I would, but Hugo's feeling down, and I just want to be there for him, you know?"

I could hardly understand the things that were coming out of my mouth. I feel so pathetically in between worlds. Edith Stradeki would not say something so – blech!

But they accepted it as normalcy. Their body language read off as passive, instead of abrasive, as I've always known it to be.

"Maybe she likes a Gryffie," Pippa looked over to Ariana and they both did a half laugh, half squeal thing.

They were on the way out the door when Arianna turned towards me and said: "You should put on a skirt or something..." in a mixture of condescension and sisterly-ness, "go ahead and look through my stuff. Just make sure you shave your legs first, and return it without any stains."

They leave, and I'm sitting there in complete befuddlement.

I cannot believe that just happened.

This might all backfire on me though. I might be better off as myself. This isn't some muggle teen movie, where the students vote for me. This is based off of what the headmaster chooses. It's distorted. Head Girl should not be some partying hoodlum.

But that thing that Tucker said about the Head Girl needing respect is a big factor.

:::

I was trying on clothes for a while. I chose a rather short yellow a-line skirt, mostly because it was one of the only things not in a mildew-y bundle on the floor.

I tried a couple of shirt, and then out of pure experimentation I put on my black fitted blazer, and wore a plain white camisole underneath it.

Looking in the mirror scared me – I would have never worn something like this. As good as it looks, I didn't want any out of the ordinary attention because of it.

They would probably judge me because I started to dress differently.

I was feeling nervous, but I stepped out of the room, and said fuck it.

They are changing me.

I am conforming!

I feel sick and to be perfectly honest, slightly excited.

:::

Walking into the common room, I look around. There is a pretty decent sized amount of people here. More than I anticipated.

Mostly Gryffindors, obviously, but apparently they have a loyal group of followers.

A lot of the people I know from clubs and classes nod at me as I walk past, but all of their faces show that their wondering why I'm here. I think for a second about leaving, but then HEAD GIRL flashes through my head.

I straighten my neck, and make it seem like I'm _meant_ to be here. I am not a timid person, I know how to turn on my confidence...or the surface of it, anyway.

Rose and I make eye contact from across the room, and she smiles and waves me over rapturously.

I met this girl today. How does she do it?

_So _friendly.

I get up to her and she pulls me into a half hug shoulder pat sort of thing. She's holding a glass of something disguised in orange juice. The music is loud enough so that she has to raise her voice.

"You look _so _good! I'm glad you came!"

"Thanks," I say dumbly. I look at her outfit. "I like your shoes!"

She looks down at them as if to see which pair she's wearing, and touts them. "Ohh thanks, I got them at some shop in Diagon Alley. Witch Wear I think it was."

She smiles, nods at someone coming in, and then turns back to me.

"Let me get you a drink! Do you have any preferences?"

Not knowing what to say, I shrug and nod. I wasn't planning on drinking any alcohol. I've never been drunk before, and I don't really want to start now. I just feel awkward saying no.

"Alright I'll be right back." She promptly disappears into the crowd.

"Eed?"

I spin around, following the voice, and my skirt twirls a little bit.

"Oh, hi Tucker." I peer at him, tugging on my blazer.

"You look great!"

I never knew Tucker to be like all the rest of them.

He stood there with a plaid flannel shirt, holding a beer. His hair wasn't combed.

On purpose? But why?

That is to say, I'm not disrespecting him for it, it just puts another perspective on things. He walks over to me and flicks the hem of my skirt in some sort of quirky admiration. His closeness throws me off guard. I start to feel disorientated. His whole bodies smells like alcohol.

Albus Potter comes from behind him, dancing a little bit, and sees me.

"Woah!"

"Stop," I say defensively, hiding my body by folding my arms. Albus crosses over to me and stands by my side, facing Tucker, his hand on the small of my back.

"It always happens this way, where one stiff Ravenclaw girl comes to a party dressed super hot. Like sexy librarian style."

I take a step away from him. This is what I meant by out-of-the-ordinary attention. He closes the gap again.

"You are the girl of my attentions tonight," he said coincidentally, putting his head close to mine. I shiver uncomfortably.

Tucker shakes his head and walks away.

"Where's Hugo?" I say into his ear. This atmosphere does not really encourage conversation. He goes behind me, puts both hands on my shoulders and walks me forward. He's making it seem like I'm handicapped or something. Rose finds me half way there and hands me a tall glass of something, I don't really know what it is exactly.

"I found you something, you might like this!"

She is so nice.

"Thank you." I sipped it. It tastes just as fermented sugary grape juice would. I wouldn't go out of my way to drink it, but since it's in my hand, I better play the part.

Rose puts her thumb up inquiringly and I respond in the same fashion.

Albus takes hold of me again, this time, leading me by my side like an old lady, his hand still on my back.

Hugo is lounging on a couch, looking despondent, holding a big bottle of firewhiskey. Albus sits down next to him, and then pulls me down onto his lap. I yelp in unpleasant surprise.

"Let me off," I mumble squirming. He lets me settle tightly in between Hugo and him, but he won't take his GODAMN HAND off of my back.

Finally Hugo realizes I'm there.

"Ed, love." His head is swaying slightly. He gives me a clumsy kiss on the cheek, and then goes right in for another gulp of alcohol.

"Don't you think you should stop drinking?" I ask him, as if it's a no-brainer.

"Well," he started, his chin squished against his neck. "Some – some _person _told me... today, maybe like a half hour ago - _I don't know..."_

"What did they tell you, Hugo?" I prod, slapping one of Albus's hands off of my knee.

"They told me summat – and they sounded really smart, like they knew what they were saying " he pauses and gazes above him, as if trying to find where his point went. He looks at his drink and remembers. "There's solace at the bottom of the bottle, Hugh.'" He says this in a slow sage like voice.

I gasp and then click my tongue in distaste. "What half-wit told you that?"

Hugo looks at me, and then Albus, and then points to Albus morosely.

I pause and look up in exasperation.

"Really?" I jab him with my elbow.

"Sorry." He did not sound sorry.

"Why aren't you as torn up about all of this?" I ask him. He flicks his eyes around a second.

"Well because I have another year to win the cup, and also because I have my beer goggles on," he says. "Go ahead and drink a bit more, you're the only sober person h-here," he hiccoughed.

"I don't want anyone to take advantage of me."

Hugo pipes up from my other side. "The fucking git that takes a'vantage of you, will get his bloody face ripped off."

"Very graphic, Hugo," says Albus.

"That means you as well, you twat."

"Don't get mad."

Hugo shakes his head in disapproval, and then begins to ignore us, as if he's disappointed in us, or something.

Albus looks down at me, he has his arm around my shoulders now, and he nods towards my drink. I heave a sigh, and then down it. I gag a little bit half way through. It's a large glass, and essentially, what I'm drinking is anti-water.

But that's all I'm going to have, I mean I'm only doing this to get him off my back and – woah, I feel a buzzing in the center of my head.

All of a sudden Phoebe and David are standing in front of us. I get up to hug her.

"I didn't know you were coming!" she says brightly. Nudging her way through the sea of people.

"You're not drinking, are you?" I ask looking into her hands.

"Well not anymore, no."

"What!" I cry.

"It's okay, Edie, I only had one beer. I'm done for the night, I promise." She looks down at Hugo, who has been glaring at her this entire time.

"Are you okay Hugo?"

He wobbles unstably as he gets up, and then stands up tall over Phoebe, and a bit taller than David. "You are wearing _way _too much makeup, Phoebes."

"No I'm not!" she turns to me nervously. "I don't have too much on, do I?"

"More than usual," I respond, sitting back down, wiggling away from Albus as much as possible.

"Well you should stop trying to look like a slag – or... you'll just turn into one." He throws his arms in the air. "Magic'ly! Poof!"

"Hugo!" Phoebe cries, putting her hands on her cheeks, to hide her blush.

"Don't be rude," steps up David. Ohh great.

"And if y-you're the one making her into a slag, then I've got a bone to pick with you, you tosser!"

Hugo is in a very malicious mood. Before David could step even closer to him in offense, Phoebe flies in and gently pushes him back down to the couch by his chest.

"Hugo, you are _drunk," _she says. He holds onto her wrists tenderly.

"Yes – I am," he affirms. She looks up to David and then to me. "David could you please get Edith a drink, she doesn't have one." He rolls his eyes and goes.

"Don't try to fight anyone," she says firmly, still holding him down.

"He was already planning on ripping my face off," replied Albus, laughing. Hugo laughed too. Pretty soon there was all laughing. I 'hmph' in amusement, and Albus takes fascination in looking at my mouth. As if wondering if he missed a real laugh. It's not like I try not to laugh. a) I'm a pretty serious girl, and b) I don't like my real laugh, so I had trained myself to not laugh out loud at all. Phoebe starts talking to Hugo privately, and I suddenly feel uncomfortable and alone again.

Until Albus drags me out of the seat, and into the middle of the crowd.

"Let's dance!" he says happily. David finds me in passing and hands me a hard cider drink.

"I don't really want to, Albus."

"Come on!" he practically yells.

I take a gulp of my drink and shake my head.

"Then come talk to me over here."

Albus is drunk. He's not mean as Hugo, or sloppy like Fred Weasley over there, but he's definitely intoxicated, and he's parading me around like a doll. He shimmies as he leads me to a less-occupied side of them room.

"Oi, Albus!" someone cries, and they high five each other. He continues on.

"So," he starts conversationally. "Tell me about you problems. Let me hear about your worries and stuff. I'm quite good at giving advice. Just go ahead. Let's hear it."

I grimace. Any other girl would be expected to giggle or fawn over his attentive quirkiness. I'm not here to chat up Albus Potter, I was only trying to make an appearance, and say hi to Hugo.

I take a sip of my Cider and relent.

"I'll give you a truth," I reply. "This..." I wave around me, enveloping the whole situation. "Is not something on my regular to-do list, And this..." I point to my clothes. "Is not something I would ever wear."

He looks down at my legs for the umpteenth time.

"You look _so _hot," he says as if it changes everything. A pearl of wisdom.

I take another drink and cross my arms. I'm not mad or anything, I kind of just want to be in my bed right now.

"God you're so aloof!" he cries after a moment of trying to figure me out. "I suspect you'll be going soon, then?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Well I just wanted to say..." he held me around the waste and pulled me into a side hug. "That you have the nicest, clearest diction I have ever heard from anyone." I actually smile at this.

"Thank you," I say sincerely, not really thinking about the oddness of the compliment.

He tugged at my hair. "Anytime, Ed." And then he took my drink.

Blimey, what a gentleman. That was the mystery sarcasm again.

As soon as I walk out through the portrait hole, Tammy spots me from down the hall.

"Edie!" she shouts, she looks annoyed.

"What the matter?"

"That girl Heather is past out at Hufflepuff. You have to go get her."

"Can you help me?" I ask, feeling worried.

"Your on your own, girl."

Fantastic.


	5. In which she runs and he chases

**A/N: So this chapter and hte last one (which are like dual chapters) were a supa fun to write. Here you get a glimpse at Dom, although he's still a mystery at the end of the story, even to me, but.. well anyways. here you go!**  
><strong>Tell me what ya thinkin! <strong>

* * *

><p>Chapter 5<p>

I stand rooted in my spot for a few minutes, panicking a little bit, and not knowing where to start.

I'll go down to Hufflepuff and see if anyone has any leads, because Merlin knows Tammy is no help at all.

I am not one to sneak around the halls at night, but I am prepared for anything. Especially when Heather does this to me. I am the person to go fetch her after her drinking binges. She has a bit too much to drink, and then fancies an adventure, and she has gotten in trouble too many times to get caught again Now, I know it's a lot of trouble to go through for someone I don't even really call my friend, but I don't want her to get kicked out of school.

I know a spell that allows me to use mirrors where I need them to look around corners.

Here is a little known fact: I am very stealthy.

I pass a girl and a boy holding hands. They freeze when they see me.

"Off duty," I say brushing at the spot where my badge usually is.

"You're not going to turn us in?"

"No."

They both smile. "Hey thanks, Ed!"

I want to scream as they walk away. HOW is this spreading around? I don't even know their names.

"Wait!" I shout/whisper. "Have either of you seen Heather Periera about?"

"The drunk Mexican Ravenclaw girl?"

I nod, albeit incredulously.

"She was at the Hufflepuff party a while ago. Haven't seen her since."

I wave and leave promptly. I have to keep moving.

The portrait hole at Hufflepuff is practically wide open with all of the people going in and out of it.

And I had thought Gryffindor was loud.

It's completely out of control. People are dancing crazily, playing drinking games, there are a few wrestlers, and a bunch of snogging couples.

Arianna spots me and stumbles over. Suddenly I'm afraid of her freaking out that I'm wearing her skirt, even though she had offered. She stops a guy half way over to me and shouts something into his ear, pointing to me. He looks at me and nods, and then continued on.

For a second I almost decide to run away, but I stand my ground. It's the wrong decision, since a passerby gropes me, and all I can do was squeak in embarrassment.

"FUCK OFF, PERV," yells Arianna, to the guy retreating away from me. I hadn't expected her to do anything like _that. _I figured more on the lines of rip her skirt off of my body and tell me how much of a chit I am.

But no, she defended me, and comes over to hug me. She is extremely drunk, of course, but sill.

"I love the way that skirt looks on you, I'm so glad you picked it out," she says, walking around me in observation.

"Thank you." I'm starting to lose my voice from yelling. "Do you kno-"

"You are soo skinny, I hate you!" Apparently this isn't suppose to come off as offensive, because she smiles after. The guy she spoke to comes over to us and hands us each a shot glass full of amber liquid

"Thank you, darling," she says bouncing to the music and kissing him on the cheek.

"Here's to you, because you look super hot." She taps my glass with hers, and drains it, she pushes mine to my mouth, so that my only choice is to follow suit.

And, merlin it burns my throat.

She must have seen it on my face, because then she offers me a sip of her drink, which has alcohol in it, incidentally. Soothe burn with more burn, I guess?

Oh yeah – I think the goal is to "get more shitty," as someone just shouted lying on top of a table.

Next, Pippa trots over to me and grabs both of my hands.

"I see you took out advice!"

"Erm, well actually I was-"

"They're starting a song game over there, let's play."

She drags me over where a big group of sixth and seventh years, and a couple of underclassemen dubbed worthy, lounge at a plaza of couches and pillows. I sit down.

"I don't have a drink, Pippa," I say. Why am I even complying? I need to find Heather! I am about to get up until I turn around, and Dom is right there waiting for me to see him.

"Well what do you know," he says, bemused. He smiles at me for a moment, and I feel a tugging sensation in my chest. He hands me a beer.

I usually don't like beer, but this doesn't taste like it usually does. It feels bubbly and smooth going down.

I look up at Dom, who is taking in my appearance. I'm not going to lie and say that I want him to stop, because his big expressive eyebrows are high up on his forehead, and his lips are pulled tight, as if he was impressed. The sudden admiration makes me feel good.

Before I can say anything, they start explaining the rules. It's basically just drink whenever you here a certain word in a certain song. It sounds easy enough, until the song comes on, and practically every word is one of the words we have to drink to.

It's fun, even though all we do was dip our heads back and forth sub-intelligently.

Dom helps me up after, and it's then that I realize that I am getting drunk myself. I always wondered if I would know if I was or not, and at the moment it's quite obvious.

I feel like I am a second or two off from my thoughts. Reaction time is late.

It only takes a few minutes for me to feel even drunker. But I refuse to be one of those drunk girls who falls all over you, or someone who doesn't stop talking, or someone who can't even walk.

I will absolutely _not_ take another sip of alcohol.

The whole time of thinking I have been leaning against the armchair with a blank stair on my face. My vision next is filled with Dom's striking Germanic face, and I have the strong urge to burry my face in his shirt, and smell him. Dom has the most irresistible smell.

I have to stop myself from thinking, now, it's getting ridiculous. And Oh shit I forgot about Heather!

"Heather!" I shout.

"No," he says and then points to himself. "Dom."

It catches me off guard and I laugh. It's a loud cackling sounding thing. I don't care how dumb I sound. Dom raises his eyebrows at me, and breaks out into a smile. I can feel my heart melting sort of.

"No," I say, still laughing a little. "Heather."

He shakes his head.

"I mean - we have to find her!" I stand up straight, trying to get him to take me seriously, because it is very, very serious.

Oh my god, I don't know where she is, and I'm here being drunk. I realize my hand is on Dom's arm imploringly.

"She's piss drunk. We _have_ _got_... to find her." I say dramatically, now grabbing onto both of his arms. Mmmm he's warm.

I lean forward and hug him.

"Please - I don't know where she is... please, please help me," I muffle into his chest in devastation. I could stay here forever.

But I need to find Heather!

He pulls away, grabs my arm, and takes me to the counter with all the different bottles of alcohol on it.

"No! not that!" I cry desperately, as if he's bringing me to torture.

He pours something into one glass, downs it and turns to me.

"Let's find Heather."

I pick my wand out of the waistband in my skirt and hold it up like I'm preparing for a mission. I am preparing for a mission!

"Yes, lets."

He looks appalled. "We're not planning homicide here," he says, but I'm not really paying attention. I like his appalled face. I tell him this:

"Your face looks really good when you're appalled."

"Erm.. thanks."

He puts his hand into mine, and it makes me beam, but only until he's dragging me somewhere... I don't know where.

Oh yeah! Heather! Oh my god, where is she?

"Where do we look?"

"I know she left about a half hour ago."

"Where!"

"Well I don't know, do I?" he asked irreverently. I tell him he has a nice irreverent face, and then ask again where we are going to look, as we step out of the portrait hole. "Albus Potter owes me a favor, and I'm quite certain he has a way of knowing where to look."

"Albus Potter is a git, but if he can help us, then- oof!"

I just ran into a pillar. It's not entirely _my _fault, he was the one who didn't anticipate me running into the pillar.

"Stop dawdling," he says, and then stops himself, looking at me as if he's about to come up with a bad idea.

"How are you sure she's not just in her dorm?"

Oh, he's looking at me as if he's _doubting me_.

"Because she does this every time."

It's not a very good explanation, but he nods and says 'ohhh.'

Slytherins are cunning, but not drunk ones. Just because he can walk in a straight line, unlike me, doesn't mean his judgment isn't impaired. I mean... mine is as well, but...well anyways-

Back in Gryffindor, we weave through the crowd.

They have strobe lights now!

I start to bob to the music a little bit as we walk.

I see Hugo lying on the couch with his head back. Is he sleeping?

I leave Dom's trail and go over to him. I kneel on the couch next to him and pat him gently.

"Hugo are you okay?" I say in the loudest whisper I can muster.

"Don't talk to me."

"Hugo get some sleep, your poor darling!"

I shriek. What is this utter nonsense coming out of my mouth? I don't care, I have tunnel vision, and my mouth is dry because it's been hanging open for a long time.

"Hugo my knuckles hurt really badly, because I whacked my arm against a pillar at a high speed," I say. I didn't realize it was hurting until I had said it.

Wait...is that possible? I don't know!

He picked his head up and it swayed up and down and side to side, and it looked like he was sea-sick.

I've always wanted to go sailing.

"You are beautiful," he says unstably. "I love you so much."

His head falls backwards again. Perhaps I'll leave him there. I think he needs a bit of time.

"ED-SANDWICH!"

I am squished by Albus and Tucker now. I cry out in panic.

"Edie, quit fooling around!" I here Dom say crossly.

"I was attacked!" I shout, distressed. I don't want Dom to be mad at me. I smile up at him innocently. His face is so nice.

Dom grabs me from the middle of the two, and they both look at Dom as if he's ruined their fun for the rest of their lives.

"Well don' the two of you look like the most dashing couple I ever saw," says Albus sardonically.

"I need a favor," says Dom, ignoring the comment that made me jump a little. Albus keeps his eyes on Dom, but Tucker is looking at me in confusion. Dom and Albus step away from us to chat, and so I step up to Tucker.

"Where have you been?" He asks.

"Heather is missing again," I explain non-chalantly while grabbing his beer and taking a long gulp of it. I then freak out and shove it back into his hand.

"How _dare _you let me drink that?

"You're drunk?" he yelps.

"I'm beginning to get over it," I say confidently as I hold out my arms and stare forward, as if that's what I look like when I'm sober. I then lean too far forward and almost fall to the floor.

"I never thought I'd see the day," he says. I grin and ruffle up his hair affectionately. I've never done that before, his hair is very soft, so I put my other hand in it and feel around up there.

He doesn't seem to protest, so I continue.

Arms grab me around the middle from behind, and all of a sudden I'm being carried to the portrait hole. I don't think to look back to who it is until I'm put down.

"Albus, why did you do that?" I look at Dom behind him.

"We're going to find your friend," he replies, looking at my legs.

And then he skips away through the entrance and trips into the hall.

He then proceeds to pretend he meant to do it by keeping his position on the floor and pulling a piece of parchment out of his pocket.

I look to Dom who is standing next to me akimbo, and I thread my arm through his, for support.

Albus rolls onto his stomach and kicks up his feet. Swinging them around.

"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," he slurs, and begins to examine what is written on the paper.

"What an odd thing to say..." I muse. Dom pats my back.

"Mmhm!" says Albus, folding up the paper and standing up.

He walks up to us, and takes out a flask from his pocket.

"She is sitting on the second floor somewhere in a intersecting corridor," he announces, taking a swig.

"Let's go," says Dom firmly, Albus and I stumble behind him.

As we walk Albus lets me take a sip out of his flask.

"'Bout every five steps or so, you curve into me," he says, grabbing my hand and swinging it.

"Yeah, I can't stop doing it!" I say in amazement that he's noticed it too.

"Shush up back there!" says Dom over his shoulder. I skip up to him, leaving Albus, and attempting to match Dom's pace.

Dom is really very tall, and, although not burly, is decent sized, muscle-wise. Albus is only a bit taller than me and rather skinny. His forearms are smaller than mine. I don't like it...not at all.

But it is much easier to walk with Albus, who has a leisurely boyish way about him, his arms swinging a lot, whereas Dom walks with conviction.

I fall back again into step with Albus.

"Why did you do that?" he asks.

"Despite how sexy Dom's walking is, you're nicer to stroll with."

I should care that I said something like that, but the embarrassment is numbed inside of me, and it feels like I don't care.

Albus smiles at me and laughs amiably.

"You're not mad that your walking isn't sexy?" I ask him.

Where is this gall coming from!

"I'd rather someone want to walk with me instead of being watched as I walk."

"Will you tossers stop watching me walk!" cries Dom. Suddenly he reels around and starts waving at us frantically and silently. The look on his face probably means there is some one- hoshit! There's someone coming!

I spin around once before knowing what to do, and I run into the nearest corridor alcove, which is where the boys dove as well.

Darren Falmer from Slytherin waltzes past us, heading somewhere that isn't here, and I'm finally able to breathe.

"That was awfully close," I say tripping out of the corner. Albus pulls out his piece of paper again and starts looking at it, Dom illuminates it with his wand and looks over Al's shoulder.

I try to peer at it as well, but they both step away from me.

"Oh no, she's on the move!" Albus cries. "We have to go."

And so we start walking at a speed that is quite faster than Dom's regular conviction speed.

I like jogging, but fast walking is hard and annoying, so I start to jog.

Pretty soon I'm enjoying myself, and keep jogging happily.

"Slow down, Ed!" Albus cries in distress.

I don't say anything, and then I think that he's gaining speed. I think he's chasing me!

"Edith! Where are you going!" I hear Dom hiss. It's a good thing I'm wearing my trainers. I almost wore flats, and I would never be able to out run them in my flats.

They're running faster! Why are they chasing me! I turn a corner. They'll never catch me-oof!

I rub my knee as I get up, and then I realize there is a body next to me.

"HEATHER," I cry.

"Eermgghh... fuckoff," she moans. I think she's in pain.

"You found her!" exclaimed Dom. Albus comes and picks me off the floor.

"Why did you run?" he says in exasperation.

"You were bloody chasing me!" He does a double take at me and then lets out a charming laugh, where he voice cracks a little bit.

Dom and I kneel down in front of Heather.

"We have to get you to your bed," he explains, in a business like voice. He's so attractive.

Heather nods her head, and we help her up. I'm limping a little bit, so Albus takes my place on her other side as we set back towards the towers. All the way there we are quiet.

Once we get to the ravenclaw portrait hole, the corridors are extremely quiet. It's really late.

I hug Dom goodbye and say thank you in an all too gratuitous voice, squeezing him too tightly.

Albus hasn't left yet. In fact he waits for Dom to leave to tell me why he's still here.

"I need to go to bed now, and so does Heather, here," I tell him.

"Do you like Dom?" he asks.

My mouth drops open.

"No!" I cry. "Dom might be the most delicious thing I have ever seen, but I don't fancy him!"

"That's not very reassuring," he replies.

"Why do you need to be assured?" I wonder, and he merely shrugged.

"No reason... See you in the morning, Eddy!" He kisses my hand and turns around waving, whistling a tune as he leaves.

No one is in the dorm when we get there. I help Heather with her pants, put her into bed, and crash onto mine without even taking my shoes off.

I'm not abe to fall asleep for a while, because I feel like my eyeballs are spinning in their sockets.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay we're done being drunk, now.**

**Review please!**


	6. In which summer hols are in question

Dislcaimer: JK Rowling owns the Potterverse, not me. I own the OC's down below.

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><p>Chapter 6<p>

:::

I am absolutely appalled with myself.

I woke up this morning with eyes my glued shut. I stretched, but it didn't feel good like it usually does. I moaned very loudly.

And then from that, I heard several more moans.

So this is what it's like waking up at the same time as everyone else _hung-over. _

I never thought it would be glamorous, and it truly is not. It might be vaguely rockstar-esque, but it is not hot. It would be like the ugly, disgusting side. All of the curtains are shut tightly. Someone must have got up with the sun to shut it out.

"Pippa..." I hear a wounded voice moan from a corner of the room.

Pippa coughs sadly. "What?"

"Can you please get me some water?" umm, neither of them are sounding too good.

"Fuck you."

"I'll get it," I respond. I get up and right away my head starts smarting like there is a lead ball knocking on the inside of my skull. I yelp in pain, and then proceed to the bathroom, transfiguring a few water bottles and filling them up.

I pass them out. Arianna's the only one out of her covers. She kicked them down below her feet, and her head is wedged between two pillows. Pippa takes the water inside her little blanket hovel. Heather is still asleep.

I went back into my bed and felt sick for about forty-five minutes. I've never layed in bed without sleeping purposefully before.

I never thought being hung-over was a valid excuse for staying in your bed sick, I always thought that they were using it as an excuse, but in actuality being hung-over truly sucks. I felt crippled.

Brief memories from last night washed over to me. I can only remember what I actually did, not how I felt or the reactions of other when I did them.

Ohhh merlin.

We only have a three days left of Hogwarts. I have one more test to take, tomorrow, and I'm done for the summer.

I better get up or I'll miss breakfast.

I roll out of bed, wash my face, stick my hair up and put on a pair of jeans. It's Sunday; we have no classes. Usually I wear my uniform anyway, but today... I just don't feel like it.

What is wrong with me?

On my way down the stairs, my knee starts to hurt.

Because I tripped on Heather last night, and went crashing to the ground.

The dining hall has everyone in it, but it's not as busy as it is during lunch or dinner. Everyone is leisurely enjoying their food and/or achingly nursing their tea. I have been going to first breakfast since the middle of fourth year, I forgot what it was like.

I sit next to Tucker at the Ravenclaw table.

"Hullo," he says miserably, looking at me as if he's quite grumpy.

"Good morning, Tuck." I grab a piece of bacon, but think better of eating it as I catch the smell, and drop it on my plate. "That's rather pungent."

I look over to Tucker's plate. There are a few nibbled on orange slices. He's only gazing at them. He glances at my hand.

"Did you get in a fight?"

I see the knuckles on my right hand. They are swollen and a deep ugly shade of purple.

"Oh my god, ow." I say.

"Wait...you actually got in a fight?" He was very alarmed.

"No! no... I ran into a pillar."

"Oh," he said, and laughed, patting me on the back. "It was good to see you let loose."

"I advise you not to count on seeing it ever again."

He laughed again. "Don't worry I won't."

"What did you do after I left with Albus and Dom?" I asked. He reddened noticeably, and coughed.

"Erm...Nothing. I went to bed."

"Okay..."

Well he's probably lying. Honestly, I don't care enough to ask.

"I was meaning to ask you," he said picking up his head again.

"What?"

"ED, COME HERE," someone shouted behind us.

I saw Albus and Hugo smiling at me, on the verge of laughing.

I know what they want. I hear conversations at school all about 'last night.' They laugh at their own stupidity. It's the same old tragically perverse teenage thing, and even though I need to be more level with the rest of the student body, I won't stunt my class for that. I turn back around and start dishing myself oatmeal.

"You're not going to go over there?" Tucker asks me.

"No." I straighten my posture. "Oh! you had something to ask me?"

"Well My parents..." he looked back at the Gryffindor table distractedly.

"ED!" I ignored them again.

"What about your parents?" I asked urgently, imploring him with my eyes to assist me in ignoring them. Suddenly, two hands jolted me in my seat from behind. I reeled around, appalled.

"Can I help you?"

"What's the matter with you?" Albus cried.

"I don't follow," I said coldly.

"Come over here, we want to talk to you!"

"I'm tired, Albus, please let me alone."

He scoffed in frustration. "I'll bet you're tired."

I spin back around to my place at the table, starting to get angry.

He grabs me by the elbow, just forceful enough to get me out of my seat. Next things I know he's dragging me down the hall and out into the entrance. He puts me in front of him in a small nook.

"So what happened? Why are you upset?"

"Why are _you _upset?" His face gets a little red.

"I don't know... I thought maybe –"

I only look at him inquiring, annoyed.

"I thought we were friendly now." He looks everywhere but my eyes. I don't really know what to say. I don't get into social conflict. And he looks embarrassed. I'm not trying to hurt his ego, I am not interested in this kind of emotion, but at the same time, I don't want to hurt his feelings or whatever it is I'm on the edge of doing.

"I'm going to be straight with you –"

"No! Don't tell me!"

"What, do you want me to lie to you?"

He was struggling with himself. "No I just...I guess I don't want you to reject me right in my face."

"I wasn't going to reject you..." I say nervously.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"Are we friends?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't you know?"

I peer at him, sincerely confused.

"You want to be Head Girl, right?

I nod my head. I know that for sure.

"Ol' Minnie isn't going to pick a head boy and a head girl who don't get along, is she? If we have to share a dormitory, and work together for the greater good of the school, we have to be friends, right?"

He's throwing all this at me. He's taking advantage of my goals, to twist me into being friends with him. Why does he want my approval?

"Yeah, that's true," I reply.

"Well then let's be friends."

"Erm, I suppose so..."

He ducks his head so that it's level with mine. "Are you okay?" He says this with real concern. His big green eyes are clear and questioning, and his hand is on my shoulder. I don't get this much care anywhere else.

Usually I would say that it was making me itchy, but this time it opened me up.

"I think I'm taking my standards for granted," I say, he nods in interest.

"Hold that thought."

Next thing I know he's dragging me outside. The air is breezy and warm, and although it's a bit bright on my eyes, it feels fantastic on my skin. I love being outside.

"Okay go on."

"Um... ok. Well –" I try to regain the emotional capacity that went out the door when we went outside. "I don't believe in letting go of composure like I did last night."

He laughs, but stops abruptly when he sees that I'm serious.

"I sold myself short."

"What made you do it?"

I think for a moment.

"...I don't know," I say, looking sidelong at him in apprehension.

"Well, I loved seeing you last night. It was fun hanging out."

Okay – now I'm starting to get itchy.

"Alright I still haven't eaten and breakfast will start popping away soon, so..."

I start back.

"Bye."

He walks back with me without saying a word.

:::

"Now that attendance is _finally _finished," I stop to glare at Phoebe, who is rather distracted today. "We can move on. Minute-taker, are you ready for documentation?"

"What?"

"Is your quick-notes quill ready to _take notes_, Phoebe," I repeat for her, my jaw tight in annoyance.

"Oh! Yes, it is now."

"Then I am calling the end of term Wizard-Giant Alliance meeting into order. What's first that is on our agenda is current events, but since this is the wrap up meeting, we will skip by it."

"There are no new reports anyways," interrupts Alice. I nod.

"Lets discuss our savings. Usually, as most of you know, at the end of the year we donate two thirds of the clubs earned funds and donate it to the base WGA group in Ireland."

"Excuse me!" Heather coughs. Commonly she would raise her hand and wave it around and shout something rude, but she's feeling sluggish this morning.

"Yes, Heather?"

"If we want enough money to sponsor attendance at the awareness seminar next year over winter break, should we be giving that much to the WGA? I think they've been lazy lately, and I would like to see what _we _can do with the money, instead of just some liberal lay about activists in a different country."

"Duly noted, Heather," I say, proudly.

"What was that idea Tucker had last week about the WGA mixer for next year?"

"Phoebe, will you find the records for the meeting of the 9th of June?"

"Certainly." It takes her quite a while longer than usual to do this.

"And I quote: 'Edith Stradecki slaps the table angrily. "Agenda item number two," she says with a drip of cold frustrated sweat dripping down her temple, "Has anyone -ANYONE AT ALL - have an idea worth saying. This club is in its final threads of desperation, yanking thin and breaking, unless somebody finds an idea tha-"

"Skip to the relevant parts, Phoebe, and _for the love of god_, try to cipher what I really said instead of that mello-drama bullshit the pen mad-libs. _Please_."

"Er, yes um... 'I have an idea,' say Tucker... something about his hair, blah blah... 'a formal mixer event... catering...ribbons, guest speaker – etcetera, etcetera... Heather Eniz stands up. She testifies to him: 'yet again another fabulous idea, Tucker, I have always been in love with you, I can't stop-' erm..."

An awkward moment ensues.

"That pen is bloody rubbish!" she cries.

"Don't worry, it does this to everyone."

She sits back down in her seat fuming slightly.

"Order, everyone! Yes the mixer idea – we can ask for donations upon entry, and we'll need to think of more ideas for attracting interest, which we will begin to cover next year. Perhaps we'll save it for the beginning of December? That will give us plenty of time to plan. Agreed?"

They agree.

"What is the monetary balance of our account?"

"Phoebe?" I notion. She jumps in her seat at her name, and then starts flipping through her folder.

"Ah," she says. "forty-eight galleons, fifteen sickles and two knuts."

A collective groan rings throughout the room.

"That's not very much," says Nick.

"It's plenty!" I tut. "It merely means, we will be more active next term in pursuit of more funds, thus spreading more awareness." A few people nod in concurrent. I am very good at this.

"I propose," said Heather, her voice louder than last time, "that we give the WGA a quarter of that balance, buy a reliable new self-dictation-quill, instead of the wonky quick notes one that we're using, and work towards raising awareness among our peers in our school. I think that should be our objective for next year."

I beamed at Heather. Yes she will be a wonderful president. I was slightly worried about it at first, but since I am convinced, stepping down today will be leagues better than when we come back after holiday.

"It's settled then," I say, being careful not to slam my hand down on the table again. "Phoebe and I will visit Gringotts as soon as school is over, and withdraw the fraction of our ownings."

Everyone nods in agreement again.

"Now before I dismiss everyone, I have one more item of vast importance. I'm sure, if I haven't told you already, that you are aware that I plan to be Head Girl next year. Along with this responsibility, I won't have as much time for other priorities. That is why I am going to step down from my presidential chair here at WGA."

A few people cry out in surprise, a few more stay silent. I don't know what they are thinking. Including Heather.

"I have been thinking quite a lot about who could fill my seat, and unless there is serious objection, I have decided that Heather would be most suited for the responsibility."

I look to Heather and she's smiling.

"First, Heather, - er, actually wait a minute... Phoebe maybe you should hand write this, I don't want it getting messed up... Ready? Okay. Heather, do you accept this proposition?"

"Absolutely!"

"Say 'I do.'"

"I do!"

I turn to the rest of the group. "All those in favor?"

Everyone concurs, some in cheerful tones, most dismissive I don't care tones, and one in a muffled way.

"All those opposed?"

Silence.

I slam my hand down on the table for the last time, probably. "The ayes have it! Beginning the first day of next term Heather Pereira will be first and foremost president to this committee, and I will pass over my privileges and jurisdiction to her."

In an instant, I practically feel a palpable weight life away from my shoulders.

:::

After lunch-time I spent an hour helping tutor some fifth years with OWL's business in the library. They were so stressed out about it, and it was rather cute.

As soon as they left, I opened up my history of magic textbook and began to read through my notes, which were sparse, but I'll be fine, I'll just drop history of magic next year.

Tucker and Phoebe found me and set up camp at my table, and for a while, I just had a good time doing nothing with them. That enjoyable thing where you are all together with the point of doing something of slight importance, and end up hanging out instead. It's even more fantastic because when you comically pretend to ignore someone by blankly looking at your textbook.

"Oh come on, Edie, you had loads of fun," said Phoebe.

"Oh dear, how fascinating! The red oak wand call back of '39 was a devastating time..."

"Red oak, was it?" said Tucker, leaning over my book in interest.

"Yes, the trees were diseased themselves at the time and a witch named Penelope McGitter was maimed because of-"

"Excuse me, this is utterly ridiculous!"

"Excuse _me_, I am doing my homework," I replied snidely.

"No, you're doing some Ravenclaw light reading, _I'm _wondering if you're ever going have more fun than you did last night, and admit it."

I put down my book, and primly rested my arms on the table, Tucker seemed to have the same notion as me and followed suit. We began to scrutinize her in a very snobbish way. It was fantastic, it wasn't planned or anything.

"What about _your _night, Phoebes?" he asked.

"Yes, tell us about _your_ night, darling."

She wiggled in her seat, trying to keep her posture.

"My night was nothing special."

"That's not what David said," remarked the genius next to me.

Her eyes flicked wider, and she started to cough. "I never planned for it to happen!"

It was our turn to be surprised. "What!" We both burst on queue.

"What did he tell you?"

"Nothing! I lied! I haven't spoken to him. What did you _do, _Phoebe?"

Her face was frenetic red, and she sputtered. It looked like she wanted to leave right away but didn't know if it was possible. I don't think I wanted to hear the truth. If she was this embarrassed about it then it must've been really bad.

So I made it seem like I was saving her. It was a win-win. I don't accept this thing she's having with David, and I don't want to know about it.

"It's okay, Phoebe, you don't have to tell us." I said, gathering my books as I stood up. I was doing this for the wrong reasons.

"She doesn't?" Tucker asked, his head cocked to the side in confusion.

"No!" I exclaim, avoiding eye-contact. "Not to me anyways. Let's go Tuck, we have rounds in ten minutes."

"Fine!" he cried in exasperation. "Bye Phoebe."

I only nodded goodbye to her, my smile straining.

During our walk about the school, Tucker didn't confront me with my reaction in the library, like I hope he wouldn't.

Instead, he caught me off guard with something else.

"I have to ask a favor of you."

I nodded.

"Well you know how I usually go to Italy with my mum during summer hols?"

Erm, I guess so...? I don't know what Tucker does on holiday, let alone anyone other than Phoebe.

"And you know how she had gotten engaged this past fall?"

No...but I smiled and nodded anyways. That's nice! I wonder what his step father is like.

"Well the wedding is in July, and then she's going on honeymoon till mid-august."

"So what are you going to do?" I asked.

"Well that's the thing..." he trailed off, and then started walking backwards in front of me until I stopped for him to make his point.

"Could I possibly stay at your house for a few weeks?"

WHAT?

Oh, my god, no way!

"Oh!" I replied, holding every ounce of unpleasant surprise behind my skin.

I mean I feel bad for him, the boy can't take care of himself, really. He is an aweful cook, and he's not that neat. He doesn't have that many close friends, so I can imagine how three weeks on his own would be bad.

But I don't want him at my house! There's hardly any room... my sister is... no it would not be acceptable. I need to keep my non-Hogwarts life private.

For sanity's and safety's sake. Tucker's face began to fall at the length of time it was taking me to reply, and to tell the truth, it was breaking my heart a little.

"I understand, if that won't work, I just figured I would ask you... I mean it won't be a problem really to just stick it out in my house. I mean it's a really big house, and I don't know how to cook, but I'll order take out, and play music so that I don't get skiddish."

Oh damn he get's scared of being alone? Crap.

"It's fine!" he continued hopelessly embarrassed. "I get it, it was really rude of me to ask, and-"

"Tuck, please, it's not you..." he looked at me skeptically, his face all red, and continued yet again.

"Let's just pretend I never asked! I'll join an art club or something... Something to keep me busy."

"I can't just leave you by yourself," I prodded strategically.

"Well maybe we could spend a day in London every now and then for a bit of tea or something... I just-" his height seamed to lose an inch. He surrendered. He was never much of a prideful guy to begin with.

"I just don't want to be alone all summer."

My heart dropped to my stomach. All he wanted was some company. Tucker is a likeable guy, but he doesn't have a best friend, really.

It hit me then, that I was probably his best friend. Not in the sense of 'best friend' like someone who spends all their time with you and knows everything about, and has done silly funny things with you. I was the closest friend he had. His best friend. Who else would he ask, Heather? Pfft I don't think so.

"I just don't know if you would be comfortable on my couch for three weeks," I hinted.

"Your couch?"

I nodded, trying to seem oblivious to the awkwardness.

"I don't mind sleeping on a couch!"

"Are you sure...?" I said dipping my head a bit.

"I'm sure! Thank you so much, Edith, are you positive your parents won't mind?"

I fidgeted profusely, but he didn't seem to notice. "Of course they won't mind," I lied.

He then hugged me.

"Thank you so much!" he repeated. I couldn't help but smile with him, even though dread like bile was rising in my throat. Not only am I going to have to expose a living soul to my personal life, but I'm going to have to explain my why I have been lying about it when he sees what it's actually like

:::

Before I went to bed I scribbled out a letter to my sister.

Julia,

You know how you always say you want me to bring more of my friends over during vacation?

Well you get your wish...

My friend Tucker needs somewhere to sleep or a few weeks this summer, you don't mind him on the couch, do you? He won't be a bother.

Please be at the platform at two o'clock on Tuesday. I say two o'clock because that is fifteen minutes before the train is scheduled to arrive. Please don't be late this time.

-Edith

* * *

><p>AN:

Oh man...

Edie has _dirt! _Gosh, I thought she was a completely normal, sane person... Guess not.

Curiouser and curiouser... I am piddling myself in anitcipation for the next chapter... what is with the tension with Phoebe? Why is Albus intrigued with Edith? What is going on inside of Dom Foster's head? For goodness sakes, why is Scorpiuos Malfoy such a sketchy guy? AND LORDY, WHAT IS WRONG WITH EDIE?

jk, jk, I already know.

Stay tuned... :)


	7. In which Edith acts like a girl

Disclaimer: I do not own the Potter verse, but I do have a few of my own OC's.

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><p>Chapter 7<p>

I've finished packing before everyone else, per usual. Three hours ahead of everyone!

After double check my packing, I check behind my bed, to be sure.

Three items found: A pair of lacy pink knickers that are most decidedly not mine, a toothbrush probably a century old, and a Slytherin tie.

This puts the vomit-inducing image of Scorpius and Pippa on my bed.

I feel kind of sick.

What's done is done. I can't change the past, and so I shake it off.

Heather walks in, not having put anything in her trunk yet.

"Professor Longbottom told me to say you left your text book in his office."

"Okay." I wanted to say goodbye for the summer anyway.

:::

"H'llo?" The morning light bursts through the window illuminating the raised dust in the room. Boxes are stacked, and pots, both filled with flowers, vines and bulbous cactus looking things make it like a diverse forest. I find Longbottom sitting cross-legged in a large wardrobe sifting through endless browned sheets of parchment.

"Professor?"

He lifts his head, a smile already on his face.

"Good morning, Edith."

"How are you?" I ask, craning my neck to see what he's looking at.

"Better for your asking, thank you!" He dunks his hands back into the pile of paper and retrieves a rather dusty one from the bottom. "Are you all packed up?"

"Yes, just making my rounds to all the teachers for the summer, although Phoebe and I have a load of planning to do for the muggle sports club, so I will probably see you around."

"Good!" he says, as if not paying attention. "Look!" he raises the paper to me. "I wrote this essay when I was in forth year. _Fourth year! _Can you believe it?" He laughs to himself in delight. "She kept everything."

I take the paper from him. The page is filled with Longbottom's uneven scrawl, there's hardly any marginal room. From what I skim, I can see it's a paper on caramelizing rusted Shmere root for various potions.

"I can't wait until I'm one of those old professors who's seen it all, and knows what there is to know about teaching."

I smile at him. He really is my favorite teacher, despite his bumbling awkwardness. I mean, I look up to McGonnagal, and Professor Lupin is quite fit, but Longbottom is really cool.

"If you see Phoebe can you tell her that her mother is picking her up at King's Cross? I have to be here a bit longer than expected..." He picks up a vial of unidentifiable stuff and snickers at it.

"Sure, I'll tell her."

"Thanks, Edith. I'll see you around!"

"Professor? " I start, but he beats me to the point.

"Wait Edith! Don't forget you text book, and portfolio they're in the pile over on my desk."

There are three left on the desk, which I had to search through, since there are about ten stacks of books. I check the books for my name in the cover, and before I find mine, I find Albus's. In a moment of hesitancy I begin away, but think twice and grab the book.

I don't know _why._

I mean what if he was sent there like I was to go get it? But what if I'm doing him a favor? Apparently we're friends...

It's not like I want an excuse to talk to him or anything. I won't see him till next term, I might as well say goodbye to him.

:::

I hollered a 'bye' down the field to Hagrid, because neither of us felt like walking, Lupin patted my back genially while I gazed into his crystal clear eyes, McGonnagal and I bickered about how appropriate it was for me to constantly pester her about the head girl situation – but as I left she told me to enjoy my last summer, and then winked at me! If that's not an affirmative, I don't know what is! – and Professor Tennenbaum high-fived me, doing a sort of tap dance in the process. He is a weird bloke. He _is _the muggle studies teacher, after all.

Finally, on my way back up to the upper hallways, I found Albus. He jogged over and jumped into the spot in front of me, a grin on his face.

Before he could open his mouth to say anything, I pushed his book into his chest.

"Here."

He peered down at it for a good three seconds before finding my eyes again.

"Thanks, Ed!"

"Erm, no problem."

Awkward silence.

"Are you as excited for summer as I am? Because I am really excited."

"Yeah I guess I am," I said. It was a lie. I hated it at home.

"Well listen, Ed," he said, putting a hand at the top of my back, and guiding me to a different spot in the hallway. "There are a load of us turning seventeen before the year starts, and we all wanted to spend a night in Diagon Alley going to pubs." His smirk was ever clear. "When is your birthday?"

"I turned seventeen last month," I replied. He fist pumped the air.

"Perfect! We'll keep in touch, then."

"Sounds fun," I admitted.

Then, all he did really was look at me in a combination of a laugh and a grin, and it was _so _charming. His hair all swept around and soft looking, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

His teeth: perfect.

And then I did something unimaginable...

I giggled. A simpering, swoon. My hands clasped in front of me, and I leaned back a little bit. It's like the girly-girl that I had banned to my innards long ago high-jacked my personality.

I couldn't stop her, because, then Albus had this body language, where he looked happy and pleased with himself at making me react in that abominable way. He rocked on his toes then his heels, beaming, with his hands in his pockets.

And what was I doing?

Oh, not damage control...

I was still smiling – I had a goddamn _blush _on my cheeks. This whole exchange hadn't been more than three or four beats, but it still happened. It happened _noticeably._

I said goodbye promptly, leaving a very pleased Albus in the hallway. As soon as I turned the corner I leaned against the wall, and rubbed my eyes.

_Merlin, _I had never known this whole teenage, sexual body language thing was natural instinct. I thought it was an act. A game! It just flew out of me, and he reacted just as naturally. Just like any teenage boy with an ego would when a girl cracked under the pressure of a dashing smile.

Umm... no.

No.

No, that can't happen again.

As I began again back down the hallway, my stomach felt twisted, my heart was beating forcibly against my chest, and the image of Albus Potter's bright toothy smile was stubborn on my mind.

:::

Phoebe wasn't at our usual table in the caboose when I got on the train. I wanted to do a bit of goal-making for the summer, like we had done for the last three years. I found Tucker talking to a pretty black haired girl and he told me to look in the second car compartments. Before I left the two I did a double glance between them. The girl was Hufflepuff. Never once had I seen her around...Whatever.

Phoebe was sitting squished next to David in a compartment filled desperately to the brim with Potter's and Weasley's.

Merlin, she's holding his hand!

I stand tall, pick up my head, and assume an air of business. I am only here to collect Phoebe.

I don't want her to know I see her with David though, that's just awkward.

So I knock.

I know, who knocks? I do, to avoid unpleasant scenes.

They all turn their heads to me. Through the window, I see Rose and Albus smiling their usual ridiculous (beautiful) smiles.

Phoebe lets go of David's hand promptly. Rose waves me in.

Among the group is Hugo, a graduated Dominique and Fred Weasley, Lily Potter, Lucy Weasley, and little Louis Weasley.

"Afternoon," I reply in a tone of direct normalcy.

To my chagrin, I hear a bunch of 'hi Ed''s in response.

I look at Phoebe, and point behind me meaningfully. "You want to do a bit of planning?"

She bites her lip anxiously. "Edie, I'm not really in the mood." Her face is apologetic but determined.

I don't know how long I've been here staring at her in unpleasant surprise.

"Erm... Okay, I'll just find Tucker," I say quickly, turning to leave.

Albus follows me out.

"Come sit with us." He says shrilly as he shuts the door behind him. Everyone in that compartment is staring curiously at us.

"I've got loads to do," I say, shaking my head, and trying to hide the hurt behind my eyes. "And it's too full in there as it is, I could dock points for that." I say, without any intention to.

"You can have my seat, I'll sit on the floor."

All of a sudden I'm angry. Angry that Phoebe ditched me so that she can hold onto some guy's sweaty palm for four hours Angry that Albus is feeling sorry for me, and still making me feel slightly fluttery on the inside.

"No," I say coldly. "Bye."

And I leave. That wasn't exactly a professional way of declining, but I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, before... well before I started opening up to him again.

I don't even bother finding Tucker, and go back to my table. I'll do it myself.

"What's wrong with _you_?"

I spin around in my seat, and there stands Dom Foster with a bag of crisps in his hand. He sits down across from me at the table and pops it open.

I just tell him: "Phoebe would rather hang out with that dumb jock, David, then spend time doing things that need to get done with _me._" I point to myself accentuating that I come first. Obviously.

"Why are you more important than David," he asks with no real care in his voice. It doesn't faze me, though. That's just Dom.

"We're practically sisters!"

He pauses for a moment holding a crisp halfway from the bag and his sexy face. "Yeah." He pops it into his mouth. "The kind of sisters that are business women that like each other, but still only talk on business."

It was a weird analogy, but I guess it made sense. I didn't even care to defend myself, because he was probably right. Dom is unfailingly right, in the way that a spoon is blunt.

"I understand her need for a normal teenage life." He eyed me skeptically. "I really do! Not everyone can be part non-conformist like me, and she has a connection with the most popular crow at Hogwarts, there's a boy that likes her, and she just wants to hang out. It was selfish of me to ask her to sit here and take down my dictation."

I feel a jolt pass through me for a moment.

Oh my god, does Phoebe hate me? I treat her like a personal assistant. Dm is examining me. I can tell he's following my train of thought like a legilimens.

"I mean... She's not the awkwardly blonde frail thing with the center part anymore. She's

pretty, funny and smart. She shouldn't be hanging out with _me!"_

"I'm gonna stop you there," said Dom, holding up his oily chip hands. "Now you're over-thinking. Sure you make her follow you around, and boss her to no end." I cringe in my seat, but he continues. "She keeps your _planner _for you, for Dumble's sakes!"

I drop my head in my hands. My hair falls out of the pencil hold and pools around me in despair.

Dom reaches over and draws some of it back like a curtain, peaking in through to my face. "It's simple... just treat her like a friend, not an employee."

I whimper, a third from my Phoebe revelation, another at the hard truth that I was just told, and another at the silly feeling I get from Dom touching my hair.

I mean he's right. It might have been a harsh way of saying it, but that's what I like about Dom. No bullshit. No bush to beat around. He's a 'point a' to 'point b' type of bloke.

"Do you want to get lunch in a week or two in London?" He asks me out of the blue.

I cough a little before responding excitedly. "Sure!"

Dom gives me a smirk that he saves for the special times when he feels like smirking, crumples up his garbage, and slides out of the booth.

"I'll floo you when I'm free."

And then he turns on his heel and leaves me.

I'll admit, I watch his bum a bit as he goes. I can't help it, he is like a god.

And... he practically just asked me out!

As dom passes the line at the café, I see a new face.

Albus comes walking down to me holding a tray with two little meals on it. He sits where Dom had just gotten up, and sets his stuff down, putting one of the baskets of food in my place setting.

"Fish and chips!" he responds brightly. "You're hungry right?"

I gaze down at it. It looks pretty good. "Yeah, thanks... but you didn't have to buy me lunch, Albus."

He smiled at me, in a sheepish way. "I wanted to."

And all of a sudden that stupid, stupid girl comes out to blush and smile to herself. Outwardly, though. Albus sees, and he smiles too.

What the hell is this, some sort of muggle preteen movie? I feel so juvenile.

"What were you and Foster talking about?" I shrug, because I don't want to tell him that I was fretting about Phoebe, and for some reason I don't want him to know about Dom asking me to see me over break.

"He is a bit too cheeky for my taste," he says, taking a bite of his food. I dig into mine as well.

"He's one of my good friends."

"Why, though? He can be such a blighter sometimes. He thinks he's better than everyone, and... and his hair is always too brushed."

"Too brushed_?" _I relpy incredulously.

"Yeah, I saw him not hold a door open for a girl last week. It practically hit her in the forehead!"

"I'm sorry we all can't be as chivalrous as you, Albus."

"It was a really heavy door. It is common courtesy to at least keep it open for someone, especially a _girl!"_

I don't like how self-righteous he is, so I defend Dom testily. "Well at least he's not a dramatic bullshitter like you! And at least he has some fucking grooming skills" I cry.

People all around look at us curiously.

"Wow." He says simply.

"What?" I reply with indignance.

"I don't know, I've just never heard you swear like that before."

"What? I swear all the time!"

"I have never heard you swear," he repeats.

"Well I swear all the time in my thoughts," I muse, fastening my hair back up in it's pencil. Albus' watches me do it.

I must say; I'm glad I didn't offend Albus with that comment.

Instead, he appears pensive, as he considers my face, as if he's mulling over a piece of advice that I gave him. I eat my food self-consciously.

"Phoebe said that she feels like crap for ditching you."

"She did?"

"Yeah, but she also said she-"

"Don't worry, I know. I'm not mad at her." I pull my bangs out of my squinting eyes. "I'm actually kind of mad at myself." Albus's eyes were wide with understanding and supporting. Part of me wanting to recoil and stop talking, but a bigger part made me want to put everything out on the table between us. "I have been a terrible friend to her."

"Well, your just busy."

"I hardly _ever _listen to her problems. And I truly don't want anything to do with that weird thing that's going on with David. I mean I kind of feel bad that she knows she can't talk to me about boys."

"Why can't she?"

"Because I-"

I stop myself. Why is it?

"Because you're jealous of her?"

And now I feel super awkward. It's not like I've been rejected by boys, I've just never sought them out. Not even Dom, and to be perfectly honest for one of the first times, I fancy the pants off of him.

I avoid his eyes like I'm avoiding the question, but after about ten seconds of silence, I flicker my gaze at him, and he's looking out the window, with a twitchy look about him.

He really is very good-looking. He has a very boyish adorableness to him. And I like the shape of his neck. But don't think I'm mad because of that, I mean, he just has a nice neck – well I guess I could just say he has a nice body altogeth-

My thoughts are interrupted by him leaning over the table to grab my empty plate for me. As he gets up he looks at me one last time. His face went from all too serious, to all too easy-going. "You don't have to be, you know."

"What?" I say, disorientated.

"You should never have to be jealous of someone else."

I smile because it's a nice thing to say, and then he leaves me bemused at the whole interaction we just had.

I know I don't have to be jealous of everyone else! I grew up refusing to be jealous of other people, and forced myself to make it so that I didn't have to be. I like my life and I like the way I look, so who cares if people get boyfriends and I don't? This is Hogwarts, I have plenty of time to find a soul mate. Who knows, maybe I'll end up marrying a super smart and rich muggle doctor one day?

Hmmm...

Suddenly, Albus is back without the tray, sitting back down in the seat that he vacated five minutes ago.

"Alright, then!" he says cheerfully, grabbing my planner and parchment from my side and setting them up in front of him. "Let's make some goals." His hand is reached out towards me and I look at it with impertinent confusion. "Erm...can I see your quill?" he says after a few beats of silence.

"Why?" I don't move an inch.

"Well you'll dictate to me some things, and I'll write them down, and make various suggestions and comments."

I choose to keep my apprehensive face on as I slowly pass him the quill. He watches me expectantly, until I finally push over my ink as well.

"Ok now we can get started. Do you usually start with the most important, or do you sort them out by priority when you're done listing them."

He makes a pretty good Phoebe.

"For this list, I want to make a few groupings, and then we'll prioritize the groupings."

"Sounds good." His quill is at the ready, and his eyes are focused on me... on my mouth, which is making me uncomfortable.

"Er... Group one: Muggle Sports Club..." He sets to work scratching diligently against the page. "Two: WGA next term planning..." I crane my head curiously. He's biting his tongue, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. He's one of those kids that work extremely close to their paper, backs hunched. From here I can tell he has chicken scratch for handwriting. He notices my pause and looks back up to me, smiling encouragingly. Hesitation hasn't left my face. "Three," he quickly goes back to work. "...personal. That will be all for the groups unless I think of something else."

"I wish I was this organized."

"You could be," I say.

He shrugs and goes "eh" disinterestedly.

"Under the WGA heading, add 'visit Gringotts with Tucker and Phoebe to withdraw.' Next bullet... 'Wire fraction to the universal group.' Next bullet... 'Shop for self-dictation-quill.'"

We go through some things I need to gather for the sports club, some research we need to do, and some more recruiting.

"Alright, that'll do for now," I say reaching for the parchment. He pulls it back.

"What about the 'personal' column?"

"Oh, don't worry about that, I can just finish it up."

"Just let me do it."

"It's not a big deal Albus, I can just finish it another time."

"Why not right now? We don't get home for another couple of hours."

We sit there for a moment in suspension of the argument. I now have no real reason to not carry on. I have to be careful with what I say here. I don't want him getting all nosey on my home life.

"Bullet number one..." I say slowly, considering my words. "Begin jogging in the morning instead of in the afternoon."

A smirk is on his face as he writes.

"Bullet two: Add previous years accomplishments on resume. Three: Read through_ at least _three non-fiction books, go lightly on the novels."

"Bullet four," he interrupts. "Come to Diagon Alley to drink with Albus..."

"This isn't a calendar, Albus, it is a list of goals and to-do's"

"...Buy fantastic party dress for night with Albus and friends." He continues happily without looking up from his writing. He's messing it all up!

"Stop it!"

"Bullet six...Start treating Phoebe more like a best friend, and make good friends with Rose."

"Albus cut the shit!"

"Bullet number seven...Have fun sleepover parties at the Weasley's house so that Albus can harass all of you."

He is _so _annoying sometimes. "Bullet eight: kill Albus Potter." He's still writing this with a smug little smirk, not bothering to look up at my fuming face. I grit my teeth and ball up my fists in agitation.

"Bullet nine: have large out of control party while parents are away."

"Bullet number ten..." I shout. "Go on date with Dom Foster!"

Silence. Not even the scratching of the pen.

I chance a look at Albus, and he is looking down at the page as if he's frozen.

What compelled me to say that? I knew it would bother him, I just didn't think of the reason at the time, and the implications of how I said are... oh merlin.

He starts writing again, with a calm, more serious demeanor. When he's done, he pushes the paper over to me, with a glued on expression of easiness.

"Is that all of it?"

"Um – yeah, I think we've covered everything."

He stands up, smiling, but not.

"Alright then I'll leave you to set those into importance. See you around, Ed."

"Bye," I say waving lightly.

Damn.

:::

The whistle blows and then engine starts pumping away as I stand next to all my stuff at platform 9 ¾ waiting... again, for my sister to pick me up.

It's a possibility that I just don't see her yet, it _is _slightly crowded, but I'm pretty sure she late again.

"Edith!"

I turn around to Phoebe's mother waving at me, and Phoebe smiling sheepishly next to her. They are exact replicas of each other.

Hannah Longbottom comes over and gives me a warm hug. "How's Edith?" she says.

"I'm doing fine, thank you. How are things at the Cauldron?"

"Same as usual. Do you need to get home with someone? I can apparate with you if you like."

This is my problem every year. Some very nice parent, usually it's Tucker's mom, offers me a ride home, and I don't know whether to say yes or no. My sister might remember, and she might not, and what if she doesn't and I've already left? Then I have inconvenienced her, without any way of telling her I'm home already.

It's twisted how she forgets about me, and feels bad about it, but then when se doesn't know where I am she gets worried sick and then yells at me for 'scaring her like that.'

"Thanks, Mrs. Longbottom, but I better wait for Julia." She nods with an understanding expression.

I look to Phoebe. "I need to talk to you about a few things next time I see you." Her mom waves at someone else and goes to say hi.

"When do you need me?" she asks back dutifully. I can tell that she doesn't want to hang out with me all day doing office work.

"How about this: Why don't we spend an afternoon Oxford street one day?"

Her face lightens up. "Ok!"

"I need to get new clothes, if I want to be a sexy head girl." I say it with sarcasm, and she laughs, but we both know it's true. I sigh a little, and has the smile on her face that is reserved for our good moments. "I have to stop dressing like a middle-aged ministry official."

"Just owl me whenever," she says. "Owl me your list of goals as well, I'll annotate it and put it into print for you."

I love this girl. We hug, and wave and then she and her mom are gone.

I set up my stuff by a pillar, and sit on my trunk. Who knows how long I'll be her. In third year a waited for two hours until she apparated to me drunk and crying. Her boyfriend had broken up with her and she spent the evening downing a bottle of wine, and forgetting about her sister.

I am highly against drinking and apparating, so I had flagged down a taxi, and brought us home. Later I had to put her on her bed and take her shoes and socks off. I made her a quesadilla that she threw up after eating.

Not wanting to put myself through that, I go outside to owl her.

"Oi! Put that thing away, Eed, somebody will see you!"

Lo and behold, my sister Julia, is walking up to me. Her hair is a mess and one of her trainers is untied.

But there's a smile on her face. She picks me up from my seat and crushes me with one of her hugs. "Welcome back pahta!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Ahh mysterious sister is mysterious!

She won't be for long, next chapter is all about the seester.

What do you think of Edith's surprise girliness? Albus is digging his way under her skin, it seams...

Review if you have the time, please!


	8. In which annoyance, aggravation, albus

Chapter 8

My favorite way to travel is by portkey, but my sister doesn't like it because she says it's "too federally controlled." I suspect the real reason is because she is too disorganized to be able to utilize the system. You have to know where the portkey's are, what kind of objects they are, and most importantly you have to be on time.

We flag down a taxi because I had said I don't like apparating with her, since the last time I side-alonged my pinky nail was splinched off. My sister has no muggle money, so she uses a memory modifying charm on the driver. This is the one thing she does right, since she is a ministry obliviator, and cheats innocent muggles out of their own memories professionally.

"I cleaned the house for you!" she gushes as she heaves the door open with her shoulder I walk in with some of my luggage, and I'm surprised.

It's not by my standards of livable. I'll probably spend tomorrow cleaning it while she's at work, but I can see the effort she put into it. I go straight to my room to put my stuff down and come right back out. "It looks great in here, Julie," I commend. Compliments make my sister happy. I wander into the kitchen, and it's pretty much the same as I left it.

The kitchen is my domain. All Julia ever occupies is the fridge, pantry and microwave, and that's only if she eats at home. The one place the she has respected as mine is the kitchen, and not only because she knows how ocd I am about the area, but also because I come home every vacation, and her diet changes from ramen noodles, granola bars and cigarettes, to things like tuna noodle casserole, ratatouille, and breakfast burritos. The cigarettes, of course, aren't dropped, only cut down.

"Look what I got," she says, opening the refrigerator door. She pulls out packaged chicken. "I looked up the recipe for chicken marsala and got all of the ingredients. I almost froze the chicken, but then realized you probably need it defrosted."

My smile broadens, and I get to work.

You may think that I would be annoyed that my sister just commissioned me to cook for her.

I mean, my sister _is _a sloppy fuck-up, but she still is my sister, and knows what I like to do. If cooking weren't one of my emotional releases, Julia would probably use the kitchen sink to shave her legs in or use the cabinets as magazine shelves. She leaves it alone, because it's my area.

To be absolutely honest, eating what I have cooked for the night is pretty much the only thing that we like to do together.

:::

Julia sets the table as I finish the food and start dishing it out. We sit down, and begin our summer normalcy together.

"Did you get my owl about Tucker?"

She giggles all knowingly. "Yes..."

"What are you smirking about?" I ask testily. "So it's okay if he stays?"

"It's fine with me as long as he stays on the couch, pahta." There is an annoying spark in her eye as she condescends me with that stupidly ancient nickname.

"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Julie, but you've got it wrong."

She deflates, but raises an eyebrow at me. "Are you lying?"

"No."

"Is he cute?"

"I don't know."

"He has a sexy name."

"For the love of Merlin, Julie he's sixteen."

"I'm talking about for you, not me..." she trails off.

"No, not for me. We're friends."

"Oh shut up, pahta, guys and girls can't be friends!" I give her a very doubtful look. "It's true. I bet you a galleon that even if he knows you're not interested, he still is in some way."

"That's rubbish!" I shout, pushing a piece of broccoli in my mouth.

"You're a pretty girl. You're fit. I bet if you gave him the chance, he would bone you." I roll my eyes at her vulgarity. Tucker is _not _interested in me. I know how to shut her up, and I will use it, although I wish it hadn't come to this.

"Dom Foster asked me out this summer."

Her eyes widen and she slams her hands down on the table. "What! When? Who is he?"

Ehh... I hate these kind of conversations. "On the train he said he wanted to meet up for lunch a couple weeks into vacation." I make it seem average, even though on the inside I feel giddy for saying it out loud. "Dom's the one that came over in the big group last holiday for my new-prefects-celebration-party."

She claps her hands together excitedly. "Ohh! I'm so happy!"

"Don't wet yourself..."

"I remember him now, Edie, he is a hottie."

"Yeah," I reply vaguely swirling a piece of chicken around in its sauce.

She speaks after a few moments silence. "So I have some news."

This probably won't be good news for me... "What about?"

"So I've been seeing this guy –"

"Oh, boy."

"Yes! A boy! His name is Thomas."

"Thomas?" I say apprehensively.

"Edith, will you stop? He is a really nice guy, and he treats me extremely well."

"Is he rich?"

"No. He's a musician."

"Oh Julia..." I sigh. This must be the third musician now. When will she ever learn?

"I hate how you do that! Will you just refrain from judging him until you actually meet him?"

I sigh again, and we stop talking.

"He's a great cook. He's been making me the most amazing meals."

"Oh so that's why there's a new bottle of oregano on the spice rack."

"What the hell is oregano?"

For the next five minutes, only is the sound of forks clinking on plates. Julia slurps her wine.

"I asked him to cook for us next week."

"Seriously?" I burst out incredulously.

"You're going to love him."

I get up and clear our places without another word. She comes in to the kitchen and sets a dish washing spell at the sink, turns me around, and looks me square in the eye.

"Give him a chance."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever you say, guardian."

"Thanks, pahta!" And she hugs me for the second time that day.

:::

London in the summer.

It's a bleak place. That is to say, bleak in the summer, morbidly depressing in the winter. So if I were to choose a time to be in London, it would be summer.

My sister left late this morning because she "lost track of time." I don't know how you're supposed to keep track of it while you're drooling on your pillow. I would have woken her up if I knew what time she had to be in. 8 o'clock, apparently. My explanation on this is I figured she has been able to keep her job because it starts later in the morning. Needless to say, she's a sleeper.

I sent her out the door with thermal of tea and an egg bagel. I also slipped a wrapped up turkey sandwich in her bag. I swear to god, it's a miracle she isn't shriveled up dead in a corner from starvation. Does she eat anything when I'm not here?

Probably not.

First thing I tackled was the livingroom. I went into the closet and found out why the room itself was so clean. So after putting one thing after another neatly in it's own place, the closet was suited for shoes and coats.

I scrubbed behind the toilet, between the shampoo bottles in the shower. Everything. Everything was clean. I could finally relax.

Of course, when I went to make myself something to eat, the fridge had nothing.

So that's why I am in town now.

I stopped first to get a flat white at an irrelevant café, and I'm on my way into Diagon Alley to exchange for some muggle money at Gringotts. I stand in one of the lines.

After a few minutes I spot a shock of messy hair over a line of heads.

"Ed?"

"Hello Albus," I say wearily. Can I not go one day without seeing someone I don't really feel like seeing? Last time I talked with him – yesterday – was awkward city.

He looks me up and down smiling, but with a circumspection that I've never seen before. A wariness in his eyes? His gaze lingering on my purse hanging by my hip. "What are you up to today?"

"Yeah, well, I'm exchanging for a English pounds, and then I need to run some errands..." I try to measure what his expression is saying. He nods happily, and looks down at the strappy sandals I donned this morning. My toes need to be painted; I haven't worn flip flops in a while. I shuffle a little bit in discomfort. Oh yeah! Decipher him... He looks back up at me, and quirks his eyebrows.

Oh merlin, I can't handle his enchanting boyishness.

"Next!"

I spin around, alarmed. The goblin in front of me has three large warts on his nose. I can practically see into his cavernous pores. He sneers at me as I stumble through my business, and then I'm done.

And then I spin around back into Albus, forgetting that he is in line behind me.

And just like any teenage truism would have it, he catches me, and steadies me by the elbows. "Wait for me, alright?"

And just that one thing that he said makes me feel weird, and almost like running away. I almost do, but stop right outside the door of the bank.

"Oh! There you are," he says in relief, finding me five minutes later.

"I'm here," I affirm for him, slightly disorientated that this is happening. He laughs nervously.

"So, uh... you need help with any of your errands today?"

"No, not really."

"Any lifting I can do, or bags that need holding...?"

"Erm...no."

"-any coffee that needs buying?"

"Albus, I'm capable of buying myself a co-"

"Bloody hell, Edie, do you need me to spell it out?" he interrupts in exasperation, and then chuckles. "Can I hang about with you today?"

Shit balls.

"Oh. I don't think you really want to."

"Yeah, I kinda do, actually."

And so the misadventures of Albus and Ed ensue.

We stopped at Olivanders first because I needed more wand polish. Next, Eyelops for owl treats, and shavings for my Screech owl, Gallup's cage. I saw a pair of striped pearl drop earrings at a vendor and looked at them long enough for Albus to beg to buy them for me, but I refused. I think that we frustrated the sales woman, after Albus spent ten minutes trying to wrestle my own money out of my hands. I won in then end, however, and bought the earrings myself out of principle, even though I wasn't that extremely fond of them to begin with.

Later Albus tried stuffing galleons into my short's back pockets. He hasn't succeeded yet.

We stopped at the quidditch store, because Albus needed a new pair of goggles.

We were in that store comparing two pairs of goggles for a half an hour. He ended up going for the more frugal option, which surprised me, since his family is fantastically rich.

He expressed on the way to the grocery store that he actually really wanted to stop and buy me a coffee, but I just said no. When we got to the market, we found a donut store inside, but instead of going in and shopping for donuts, the store was closed off by a counter, and we had to look over it at cages of donuts for sale. We both decided that it was an uncomfortable way of doing things. He got the most ridiculously decadent one there was, with pink icing, and rainbow sprinkles, and chocolate pudding innards, while I got a blueberry glazed donut. He ridiculed me for getting it.

"Who gets blueberry donuts?" He teases as we get a carriage from the entrance.

"Well I do, obviously."

"Eugh," he gags. "You might as well get a muffin."

"What's wrong with muffins?"

"You just don't compare muffins and donuts."

I scoff in annoyance. "Albus, I enjoy my donut as it is, and I have nothing against muffins."

He nudges my shoulder playfully. It's way too affectionate, so I side step away. We begin going through the isles, me pushing the cart, and him retrieving the things I point to.

Hanging around muggle infested ares like this is not so bad at all. Everything is so methodical and calculated. They make up for the lack of magic so well.

We made the mistake of asking a teenage grocery stalker where the gilly seeds were. After giving us a quizzical stare, he set to finding it for us. Apparently, muggles don't have a clue what gilly is. We just figured since poppy seeds were both magical, and ordinary, then gilly seeds would be as well...

After that whole ordeal blows over, We go to the deli. Albus gapes in interest at me as I set about ordering things from the meat counter. Salmon, beef chunks, Canadian sausage, chicken cutlets. I like to stock up and wedge it all in the freezer, so that I can go home and decide when I'm in the kitchen to make, without needing to make an extra trip to the super market.

"So you do all this shopping for your mom?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I say, dodging the question.

"I thought you were just here to pick up a few things. You are actually grocery shopping." He reaches down and casually fiddles with a bottle of barbeque sauce.

"I'm the cook in the family."

"You cook?"

"Yes."

"Do you cook well?"

"Yes."

"Will you invite me over for dinner?"

"No."

He only smiles at his shoes.

Outside of the grocery market, I shrink the packs of groceries to fit in one canvas bag, which Albus refuses to let me carry. The flat is about four blocks down from the store, so we set off.

"So..." he says, but doesn't continue. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Mmhmm."

"Yeah so, you're going out with Dom?"

Oh great. I'm unprepared for this. "Well I wouldn't say _going out, _Dom and I just made plans to make plans... I guess."

"Oh," he says, with a far off look. A part of me wants to know what he's thinking, but I realize that would be a mistake to ask him. I think I know what he's thinking. He doesn't like Dom, and he doesn't want me to go out with him. I'm not saying I think Albus fancies me, but guys get jealous of other guys all the time. It doesn't have to be based on a girl. If Albus fancied me, I would know it. If I brought it up, then, I would have to deal with a mess.

He watches me as if he's waiting for me to answer, and then shakes his head in frustration.

"You know what?"

"Umm, what?"

"I bet he's using you"

WHAT THE FUCK!

I reel around and glare at him in confusion.

"Why?" I turn a very suspicious eye up at him.

He turns completely red and takes a step back, not expecting that sort of reaction.

"Well, becau-"

"Are you loopy? What are you getting at?" I point at his chest accusingly. What is that supposed to say about me?It's not as if all boy's are repulsed by me!

"I just... I don't know!"

"Of course you know. Don't play around with me."

"I'm not playing around with you, I-"

"Dom wouldn't do that. We've been friends for a long time! He doesn't go around making girls fall in love with him just to not like them in return!" Wow, where did that come from?

All of a sudden his whole demeanor darkens. He puts down the canvas bag beside him, and assumes an argumentative stance. "You think I'm that kind of guy?"

"I don't know, maybe. What else could it be?"

"Don't pretend to know me, Ed."

"Don't get all emotional, Al," I retort, folding my arms over my chest.

He makes an angry, frustrated growling/yelp sound, and tightens his fists, before lifting the bag up again and storming down the sidewalk. "Where's your flat?" he roars.

"Just give it to me, I've got it!"

"No!"

And so what happens next is he is running away from me with my groceries, just so that he can act all justifiably chivalrous, and not let me carry something because I'm a girl. Courtesy only goes so far in my book. This is bordering on sexist.

"It's right here!" I scream at a tall elegant house that isn't mine. He turns around halls the bag up the steps to the door, and drops it by my feet.

"I'll be in touch." He says, with a mean glare.

And then he's storming back down the way.

I sneak to my real flat building, and collapse inside. I realize that my teeth are grating against each other in irritation as I storm to the kitchen.

For the rest of the day, everything I do is hindered by the bad mood Albus put me in.

I slam the refrigerator door, ignore my sister at dinner, and can look everywhere but the words in my book before bed.

Everything is aggravation, annoyance, and Albus.

:::

Now is the part when I finally tell the tale of my parental situation. You can call it a sob story all you'd like but I think it merely exemplifies a pikey London scandal.

All there is to say, is that Julia is my half sister. We share the same dad. Somewhere along the mix, I got left with a mum and a sister that I'm only sort of related to, and then the mum left, and now it's only Julia and I.

One of Julia's ex-boyfriends was a shrink, and he used to tell me that I refuse to remember how or why, and I believe him.

Why would it be worth remembering that kind of shite?

* * *

><p>AN:

This chapter will go down in history as 'the one where Ed is oblivious to advances, and then revealed to be some sort of psycho path, and also Albus is a cutie as usual.

Review, if you would like; Im going to keep writing whether you do or not.

But for those who do review get a blessing from the Logan Lerman Dream Fairy. ^.^


	9. In which something kind of just breaks

A/N: Sorry for the wait people... The beginning of this chapter was just really boring to write, but boy, was the second much _much _more fun.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Potter-verse, JK Rowling does. I own the OC's, though.

* * *

><p>Chapter 9<p>

So short story short my last two weeks have been slow. Not in a bad way, I've gotten a lot of down time, and I've read that everyone needs a while to themselves. To regenerate or something like that. I've done a lot of reading, a lot of cooking, and a lot of studying.

Today I took a jog around the block, and mended one of Julia's buttons, and have been reading some of the sports magazines I found at the muggle library.

Very many popular muggle sports are under the 'contact sports' category. After some time thinking this had to do with communication, I read that contact sports is player to player body contact, like checking, shoving, pushing, and such. In American football, they wrestle each other to the ground so that that player can't bring the ball any further. Barbarism, really. Lacrosse, rugby, football. As far as I'm concerned, we don't need extra violence training in that school. Although I won't write off those sports, I will certainly lean more towards the passive sports, like kickball, Frisbee, cricket. Maybe I'll incorporate rowing on the lake. Wouldn't that be fun?

Phoebe Tucker and I are going out to the muggle shopping district to get clothes for the wedding. Tucker's mom rented him a tux since he's in the wedding, (it's going to be a muggle wedding due to all the muggles in his family), but Phoebe's going to help me pick out a dress, and Tucker wrote that he was painfully bored, and wanted to tag along.

Over summer vacation, Tucker pens me the most out of anyone. We get into really great arguments, and banter and idea giving. Tucker has kept all the letters in an old hat box in his closet, and sometimes we look through it. For a while I didn't keep the letters because I am by no means a pack rat, but he bothered me so much, that I save them now. I have an accordion envelope of them; they're sorted by year. For Christmas last term he got me extra dividers for it because it only came with six sections, and he signed one of them telling me that he doesn't plan to stop corresponding, even after Hogwarts.

Tucker and I have had a very intricate friendship. In first year we paired up in potions, because we were the best at it, and were able to get it all done working together. We were partners. We would say something like 'I need to check with my business cohort,' or 'I have a quick meeting with my associate.' Things that little kids shouldn't really be saying. It was our way of playing grown up, except I never let go of it. Around the end of third year he embraced being a teenager, but he didn't change father than that. Unlike the other kids who would let me boss them around got sick of me, and so they stopped being my friends.

But Tucker stuck around. He managed to befriend me _and _the other Hogwartians at the same time. A feat only few people have done.

I won't list them, because the newer results kind of freak me out.

:::

I leave a note for Julia, and then flu to the Cauldron, where Phoebe and her parents live. I spot her and Tucker sitting on bar stools chatting with her mother, who is behind the counter.

"Edith!" beams Phoebe, jumping off her chair to give me a hug. I hold out in front of me to inspect her. She's different. Her hair is parted way over to the right, and it's purposefully unbrushed. She has a total of five different rings on her hands. _Five._ Her shirt is a pretty floral, but it's ruined by the fact that its drapey and entirely too large for her. And- Oh God, her shorts are frayed at them ends. The inside pockets are peaking out because of how short they are.

I don't want to be rude, but this is ridiculous.

It's been too weeks, and so she decided to turn into a HIPPIE? What the hell has that lazy bastard David done with my innocent prim little Phoebe.

This whole time I'm looking at her with bugged out eyes, and then I meet her gaze. She is trying not to react to my reaction.

This will not go unsaid.

I better not put her down yet, though. I feel like a mom right now. But seriously, she can't go out like this, it's indecent.

I look everywhere but her. I see Tucker and I go over to hug him.

Which is another awkward thing, since I never hug Tucker, but I needed to have a communal I'm-not-crazy,-am-I? moment with him. He acts normal, because that's what he always does. He's not judging anyone.

"Let's go," says Phoebe. They go and I stay behind to give Hannah Longbottom a meaningful look before I leave.

"_I know," _she says to me.

"_Thank you!" _I cry in exasperation.

:::

Everything is awkward.

Tucker had to be extremely bored to come with us, because it's pretty clear how bored he is now. He has set up camp at an ottoman with worm-like fringe hanging off the bottom, and pulled out one of his muggle hipster books about some guy who catches rye bread.

Phoebe has pulled some interesting choices. She has been leaning towards dresses of flower patterns, with crochet details and hokey flowy fabric persuasions. Every time she finds one of these she holds it up in front of her and gasps at it like it is a one of a kind piece of brilliance.

After getting sick of lying to Phoebe about how much I like what she saw a second ago, I take full utilization of the pushy dressing-room-girl as I try things on.

I came with a plan, and I think I'm close to finding something.

For the length, I want something short, like something just above the knee. Even though it's a summer wedding, it is appropriate to wear a dark formal color, so I'm going to look for dark jewel tones. The dress should be simple, yet put together, and it has to fit perfectly.

The girl, who gleefully told me to call her Amanda, brings me a black one shoulder strapped thing. I try it on, only because she insists.

I walk out.

"It looks super cute on you!" she beams superficially.

"There's a bit of tulle right here that's fraying," I point out. Her face goes red.

"Oh my god, sorry," she replies dryly with a hand on her hip. "What else can I find for you?"

"Well I like this neckline, and the waistline."

She leaves to retrieve more dresses. I have to turn her around a few times. No rhinestones, no cut outs, no sleeves, no ruffles. "No nonsense," I tell her in desperation for any type of hint that will help her know what I'm looking for. This goes on and on, until Phoebe comes in holding a dress that I know is just right.

I try it on, it works, it fits, its perfect, let's go.

As I head to the counter Tucker jumps up eagerly.

"You're not going to show it to me?"

"You'll see it at the wedding," Phoebe replies.

We stop back at the cauldron for free lunch. Mrs. Longbottom is always happy to feed us. I see a few people I know and have to nod and wave every ten minutes when I see someone.

"You don't seem like a good shopper," Tucker says to me.

"Edie is the best shopper I know. She goes in, gets what she wants, and gets out without spending too much money."

"That doesn't sound like 'fun' shopping though," he replies. We both look at him oddly.

"What do _you _think is fun shopping, Tuck?"

"Yeah what's your kind of shopping?"

He pauses, looking severely confused that we don't know. "Shopping! You know, like running around, buying a lot of stuff, trying things on in front of each other, gossiping while looking through racks..." he looks between the two of us a couple of times. "You went in, got what you needed and left."

Neither of us know what to say for a moment. A fleeting troublesome thought goes through my brain. At the same time, Phoebe and I begin laughing. Big guffaws of laughter.

"Not like _I _ever do that stuff," he stumbles after us.

"Sure," drawls Phoebe.

The dress I got is just like I said. It has a subtle sweetheart neckline, and an empire waist, and then pleading in the front, so that there is a bit of shape. It goes to about an inch above my knee, and is a deep purple satin. Simple and professional, and apparently pretty sexy, according to Tucker. He begged to see it when we were waiting for our soup, and in his continued attempt to gain back his masculinity, told me ruggedly how sexy it was going to look. Tucker isn't girly or anything, but we all know how sensitive he is.

Phoebe was going to buy a fluttering yellow thin materialed thing, but then I found a dress that was said Phoebe in every right, and she got that instead. It's a pale blue ballerina dress with black ribbons for straps. The skirt is a pretty a-line tulle kind of thing. It's beautiful. Even she can't deny how perfect and pretty it was; even with her knew flighty bohemian style.

I never did actually refer to Phoebe about how she was dressed.

:::

Later that evening, Phoebe ditched us to 'go home,' which I think actually meant 'flu to David's' because otherwise, she could have just walked a few buildings over. She took the fireplace instead, which makes it quite obvious. She might becoming dumber, perhaps. Dumber with the size of her hair.

Tucker and I have been walking around ever since. I've been having a decent time until he says:

"So are you sure there's no problem with me staying with you in a couple weeks?"

Bullocks, I forgot all about that.

Tucker thinks I have parents and a big house, and a huge living room for him to live in for a while. What will I tell him when he walks into my dingy flat?

"Yes it's no problem," I dismiss testily. "I'm going to head home, Tuck."

"Erm, okay. I guess I'll see you at the wedding," he says.

"I'll be arriving with Phoebe."

"Okay..."

"Okay, bye."

I turn around and head down the road.

"Bye." I hear behind me.

Okay so that was pretty cold of me. I panicked. Lately, there has been just a lot of stress and trouble and I've never had it like this before. I'm on my period and I just feel like baking cupcakes and going to sleep. I kind of feel like crying.

Pretend that never came out of my mouth.

:::

So I did end up crying tonight. I cried a lot, and I'm still shaking from all of the crying. My chest feels like its swelled up and pulsing.

So I began to jog after I left Tucker, because my blood pressure was rising, and I wanted to get home before I kicked something, or sat down and died.

And then things got worse.

There, at the grandeur white three floor apartment up the road from my flat, the one I told everyone was mine ever since I was little, was Albus, talking to the old woman who inhabits it.

All of a sudden I felt my face get hot. My breathing was frantic. I hid behind a stoop, not knowing what else to do. This is where the first tear came. I hadn't seen one in a couple years. I mean one that didn't happen from physical pain, although this felt physical.

"Do you know where she lives then?" I hear Albus' utterly confused, utterly polite voice.

"Who is it again, dear?"

"Edith Stradeki? I know I have the right street..."

"Stradeki?" the woman screeches. "Like the Stradeki sisters?"

"Erm – y- well, yeah I guess that must be her."

"They live in the brick apartment building right down there, about a block down."

Shit shit shit, why was he looking for me?

"Okay, thanks," he said, on his way down the steps, and then turned around. "You wouldn't happen to know what their flat number is?"

"No, dear," said the old bag, and then shut the door on him.

I didn't know what to do. By now several tears had fell. They were already soaked into my sleeve. I heard Albus sigh and then start making his way up the street.

What else could I do?

"Albus, wait!" I shouted after him, stumbling out of my hiding place. As soon as he turned around he went into full concern mode.

"Ed!" he saw that my face was red and frantic. I stood there with my arms crossed, ashamed and sad and sick to my stomach. I would have to tell him and embarrass myself. He ran up to me and searched my face worriedly. "Are you okay! What happened?"

"I'm fine," I said, before another tear rolled off my cheek.

"What's going on?" He cried before pulling me into the most heartfelt hug I have ever experienced.

I didn't even have to hug him back. He buried me into him like a pillow, and I didn't resist, because I have never felt so comfortable next to a person like that.

And I wailed, and sobbed, and got makeup all over his jumper.

When I finally relented and slipped my arms around his waist, he squeezed me, and patted my back. "Please tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?"

I looked up at him. He didn't care to know why I lied about where I lived. All he wanted to do at that moment was to make me better. Of course I cried a little bit more into his shoulder before sniffling out a pathetic "no."

He tried leading me over to sit on the old lady's stoop, but I pulled away. I began to feel something like anger and frustration and despair all at the same time, and I just wanted to yell.

"No!" I screamed. "I have something to tell you, and it's really hard for me to say!" I clenched my teeth. I wasn't mad at Albus, really, just mad at the circumstance. I was mad at how I was acting. How could I have gone this long in my life without a hitch, and then all of a sudden turn into a mess? A slobbering frazzled mess. In front of Albus Potter of all people.

He motioned patiently for me to continue.

"This isn't my house!" I cried, and he nodded. "I only say I live here, because it's the kind of place that I deserve to live in, not some crappy two bedroom flat!" I point down the road angrily. "I don't have any parents like I said I do. One is dead and the other doesn't care about me. I live my sister!" Albus sat there empathizing. I could tell he was trying to figure what to do with me. I continued, crazy as ever. "Everything is falling to shit! Tucker has to stay with me this summer, Dom hasn't contacted me, I'm not working nearly as hard as I should on the Sports Club, and I'm pretty sure Rose will get Head Girl instead of me!" That was the first time I admitted it, even to myself. It felt real all of a sudden, and it made me burst into a whole new set of sobs. "Phoebe's turning into a dumb hippie, my sister has a _musician _as a boyfriend, I'm sick of exercise..."

"Edie," he said imploringly. I looked at him frantically.

"And YOU!" I shouted.

"Me?"

"Yes you! You waltz into my life as if you belong here and mess everything up!"

"What am I messing up?" he cried, standing up and walking towards me.

"My perfect, calculated, healthy level of stress that I have always maintained. You came along and stressed me out, and messed up my emotions! Do you see me? I'm a mess, and it's half your fault!"

"Edie!"

"Why did you come looking for me? I told you not to come."

"I wanted to see you, and say sorry."

"No, you don't get to do that! Can't you just get mad at me and leave me alone? Why are you so fucking _nice!_"

And then he hugged me again. Softly. An understanding that I can't really describe.

"I don't care that you don't live here." He muttered into my hair.

"Please get off me," I said, feeling too close, and nudged him away gently. He looked kind of hurt. I felt bad since he had been such a good shoulder, so I reached over, and did a weird thing by resting a hand on the side of his face. I'm not going to lie and say that I was mad at him any more. He was just a really good friend to me, and I wanted him to know I was grateful.

And then his body hovered close to me, and his face came near, and he looked at my mouth. An expression for the myriad of yearning that had been gently set free.

And for a moment it drew me in close, like a spell.

My senses came back to me as a terrible shaking feeling thumped at my chest. He was trying to kiss me! I smoothly bent away from him. Just enough to let him know I didn't want that to happen.

At all.

That's what I thought at the second.

He sighed, his breath reaching my face. I was looking at him, and he was looking down at his feet.

"Do you want to go make cupcakes with me?" I ask, failing to think of anything else to do.

"Yeah," he said with a sad smile.

:::

His fingers laced into mine as we walked down the sidewalk. The feeling was alien, and every now and then he would look over to me, causing an alarmingly dull ache in my chest.

You may be wondering why I let him act all mushy with me.

Well the reason is, is that I was also feeling mushy. I felt like I made myself vulnerable to him, and he didn't take advantage of me, or make fun or even judge me. He took care of fragile me really well. He passed a test, and it made me sappy for the moment.

Sure he had tried to kiss me, but the way I see it, is that he is Albus Potter. The Gryffindor blood in his veins runs hot. He is passionate, and when emotions are running high, he must do something sensationally drastic. Like punch someone, or shout really loudly, or kiss _me. _

Yeah, so, surprise. The guy has a bit of a crush on me. So what? No, the real problem here is the effect it has on me. I am a vain girl. I care a lot of about appearances.

So the dilemma is, Albus' crush on me is making me like him back. It's rather hateful if you think about it. I'm flattered, so I become a girl. A regular Hogwartian, Albus Potter liking girl.

Julia wasn't at the flat when we got there. Probably went to her boyfriend's straight after work, so it was still clean. As I walked in and turned on lights, and put away shopping bags, Albus, hands passively in his pockets as usual, walked around observing the place.

It drove me crazy not knowing what he was thinking. I slipped off my shoes and slid them under the bookcase as I watched him look at a moving picture of my sister and I on the front steps of the Louvre in France. Julia got sick off of bad water the last day we were there, but knew how badly I wanted to go, so she took a potion, bucked up and went with me. In the picture, Julia is standing akimbo, albeit pale in the face, looking up at the camera as toughly as she can, while I'm next to her in a blazer with my hands on my sides, probably because she told me to stand like that. In my face you can tell that even though I was not into the picture being taken, I was still really excited to be there.

"She's only my half sister. That's why we don't look alike." I told him from across the room. When he looked up, his gaze briefly started at my feet, and then worked it's way up to my face, and then he smiled without saying anything. I motioned for him to follow me into the kitchen. "Come on," I said.

We didn't say too much when we were in the kitchen, making cupcakes, just a little bit of joking, and various baking commands.

But it was all in the body language.

The whole time I noticed an impalpable little string, one end connected to my chest, and the other connected to his. It was always tugging at least a little bit. Albus was always as close as decency could allow him. Our elbows did a lot of accidental knocking on each other. His presence was always _right there _like an intoxicating fog. A warm inviting fog.

Now I know the implications of this. Albus and I were alone in my flat. My sister wasn't going to come home until morning, as she usually does.

At the moment then, my will was smarting and yelling at me, but then something else, probably the Potter fog, was cooing at me, telling me to just let something happen if it comes along. So what? It said.

I'm not loopy, that's just how it felt. Looking back on it I know it was all just some serious adolescent sexual tension going on. Our hormones had lost control.

:::

"Why do you care?" he asked as we sat on the couch, after we put the cupcakes in to cook.

"About what?"

"Why are you so ashamed of your life?"

He had gotten closer since the last time I looked up.

"I might be more ashamed that people will know that I lied."

"Like Tucker?"

"I'm not as worried about him," I say, picking at my lip in thought. I was still pretty worried about him. There's a silence next, where Albus watches me carefully, while I stare off into space.

"Do you really think I'm the kind of guy who makes girls fall in love with me?" And so we go there.

I almost thought twice about answering directly. "Yes, I think you are." The muscles in his draw twitched in agitation.

"Well I'm _not_," he replied. I didn't say anything after that. I shrugged a little. "How can I make you believe me?"

"Why is it so important that you do?"

He stops for a moment, baffled that I'm accusing him of this. "Do you think I'm doing it to you?" he finally said. It was all coming out then. I didn't know what to say. If I only shrugged again, he would think that I was falling for him, and felt scared that he was going to screw me over. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea, but also, deep down, I didn't want to scare him away. Just because I've seen Albus do it to other girls, didn't necessarily mean I thought he was going to do it to me. I had convinced myself by then that he had a crush on me.

"I hope you're not _trying,_" is what I settled for. It was a bit too strong of a catalyst.

His posture shifted towards me imploringly, and his brows were furrowed in determination. "I'm _trying_ to get you to _like me back_!" He said this with a very pleading voice, and for the moment I almost got close to him.

When I saw what I almost did, I sat back down on my bum, tucked in the corner of the sofa. He took this as an opportunity, and hovered over me. I was trapped like a very conflicted mouse.

"Please let me kiss you right now," he breathed.

Irrationally, I lifted my chin up just enough so that Albus could lean in. Before I could turn away, he gave me my first kiss.

It lasted only a sweet tiny little second before I remembered myself, as if it woke me up from the fog I was sleeping under.

I turned my face to the side so that his forehead was leaning against my temple in defeat. His breath tickled the hair by my ear. I let him kiss my cheek before getting us both up and walking to the door.

I wasn't mad, or freaked out, and this wasn't a fight for us.

It was new, and it was unnerving, but I wasn't going to let it happen.

It was obvious that he was slightly disappointed, but he also had the heir of a conqueror. He thought I wasn't completely rejecting him. He thought that he would win the war even though he tied the battle.

"Are you going to bring me some of those cupcakes? They're half mine." It's amazing what one tiny kiss will do to a boy's ego. Five minutes ago he was begging me to like him.

"Sure," I said, too burnt out and confused to get into love games, flirting and banter.

"Want to come to my house tomorrow?"

"Not really," I replied.

"But you will anyway?" I said nothing, and he smiled. "That's better than a no! I'll come by around 12 tomorrow, you can stay over for lunch."

I sighed. "Okay."

We stood at the door for a while until he said. "Sleep tight."

How cliché is that? It was just so formulaic and cheesy.

But at the time it made me smile.

:::

So now I'm lying here in my bed. Crying for the piece of my personality that I threw out tonight. Feeling giddy for being liked enough to be kissed, but still confused, because I like someone else.

Feeling like I'm leading someone on.

Feeling lost because this summer will make everything I know completely different.

* * *

><p>AN: Fufufuffufufffff!

Uhh whatt! Looks like Ed is growing down into a teenager, instead of up into a terribly boring business executive.

It's a good thing though, don't you think? What kind of people would we be if we skipped by all of our fucking up? Ohhhhh I have so many things planned. So much scandal and drama and hilarity and sadness :( The plot has been moving slow, I know, but don't worry.

More on Tucker, Phoebe, Dom, Heather, when we get back to Hogwarts for seventh year. That will be in two or three chapters.

Reviews are much appreciated! they make my day ^.^


	10. In which brown eyes tell stories of home

Chapter 10

'First off, I am going to apologize for my inexcusable behavior last night' is what I was planning on saying, before I asked Julia what her thought was. She warned me that it was 'cold and kind of weird' to say something like that to a boy the day after he kissed you, otherwise, I would have said it, like a regular Edith would, and my point would have been made, and neither of us would have to do any side-stepping.

But no. Not only did a boy kiss me last night, but I allowed him to, and no matter how much I urged myself this morning, I can't stop fretting about it.

Right now, I'm waiting for Albus at the kitchen table, with a plate of cupcakes in front of me. By all means, I'm not nervous. I am, however, regretful that I let myself slip into such a state last night, and let Albus Potter of all people, to take advantage of it. How could I not let him kiss me at a time like that? All I recall is the burning, breaking feeling, as he cleared away my exterior with his unleashment of noble passion, as if cleaning me with the purity of Lancelot DuLac. I may never fully recover from such an exibition. I don't blame him, really, because for one, his father his Harry Potter, for two his mother is a Weasley, and three, he is as Gryffindor as they come.

So to make a long story short, I have plotted to friend-zone him.

Today I put my hair in a ponytail. My jean shorts are plain, and my t-shirt boasts my journey to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Plain blue chuck tailors complete my enormously average outfit. I have gone out of my way to make zero impact on Albus and this troublesome new crush.

My sister suggested to me earlier to try and watch it where it was left, to see if I develop anything, but she's completely barmy in saying so. If I were to even think that Albus and I should be together, I would have to call myself crazy. Nothing good would come from that sort of match. I have trust issues, and as noble as Albus is, I can never trust him like I do Phoebe or Tucker.

BUZZZ. Goes the intercom. "Hello? He says unsurely into it.

Oh bullocks, that's him.

"Hi Al, I'll be right there." I buzz back.

"This is wicked! I wish we had one of these in my house-" I hear him ramble into the machine, as I shut the door behind me.

I get a stomach-ache as I catch sight of him through the door, and a goofy grin takes over his face as he sees me. I step outside, and he gives me the usual up and down before settling happily on my face. It's a good thing I have the cupcakes, or else I swear he would try to hug me.

Instead he bends over to kiss my cheek and I only shy away for a moment. Truthfully I probably wouldn't have tried rejecting him, in wariness of the level of awkwardness. If I deflected, then things right away wouldn't be comfortable.

Merlin, when did I get to be such a social snake?

But anyways, he kisses my cheek, pulls away and smiles.

"Shall we?"

And so we begin our walk to the Potter estate. Actually I've never even seen the Potter family's house, I only assume, based on slight mention, that it is a huge property.

Nothing is said about the night before, just as I suspected. I can tell, though, that it was all he was thinking about. Every time I speak he glances far too long at my mouth, and then at one point on a left turn across the street he grabs my hand, and then keeps holding it afterwards. I slip out of his grasp and it only seems to faze him for a small moment.

It did feel nice to appear like a couple for a second, I'll admit, but I'm not losing sight of my goal which is to be as indifferent as I can, until Albus stops fancying me.

He eats two cupcakes on the way, and he tricks me into giggling about the icing all over his face. Next he tricks me into feeling butterfly-y again when he uses the bottom inside of his shirt to wipe it off, exposing his stomach in the process. Of course the disgusting fact that he's purposefully staining his shirt doesn't even reach my attention, because... well I mean he's not ripped or anything, but he plays quidditch, and he's tall, and I have hormones just like everyone else.

Overall, he forces me into having a really lovely time.

So we walk into Diagon Alley, and we flu to Kent.

The second we're in his fireplace, my queasiness comes back to me. His fireplace is huge, and beautiful and perfect. One glance into his livingroom and I am instantly jealous.

"Don't forget to wipe your feet," he reminds me as he steps out. I laugh to myself. Of course I won't forget; I wouldn't ruin a freshly cleaned carpet.

The inside is not incredibly big in perimeter, but spacious, because of the archways that separate the rooms, instead of doors or just plain walls. There are a lot of nooks and crannies in this house, and I wouldn't have imagined Albus and his siblings living anywhere else. Not that I imagine ever.

I notice Albus watching me look around.

"Come meet my mom," he says, tugging at my arm.

And so I follow him into the most beautiful kitchen I have ever seen.

It is bigger than the living room, and the ceiling goes up so high you can see the inside of the roof. Over one long cream-colored counter on one wall are brass pots and pans hung neatly askewed. On the wall catty corner, there's a window in front of the sink that faces the east, overlooking the front yard, and the third wall is replaced with a large sunroom-like window. I would kill to have a kitchen like this. If I grew up in a normal family, this is what I would fancy us in.

Ginny Potter sits at the island counter in the middle pausing on the letter she's writing, waiting for me to come back to earth. Albus, the whole time this is going on is watching me contentedly.

And finally I come back to earth. "Hello, Mrs. Potter."

She smiles and gets up from her seat. This woman is stunning. Her hair has a few grays, but she is fighting fit, and the wrinkles around her eyes show nothing but a joyful disposition. She shakes my hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Edie."

"Likewise," I say. Albus next to me is looking uncommonly happy. "I – well... Your kitchen is gorgeous."

"Ed is an amazing cook!" Albus cries out excitedly next to me. I look sidelong at him hesitantly.

"Mixing up cupcakes is hardly cooking," I correct him.

"Well I could just tell when we were in there that you knew what you were doing."

I am tempted to snap at him, but since his mom is here, I don't want to embarrass him. Instead, I smile. "It's one of my favorite things to do."

After a few more pleasantries, Mrs. Potter sends us off, and so the tour of the potter house begins.

He starts by taking me outside through the front door.

The front yard has a canopy of trees around a large knoll of grass. "We call this the grove," he says. "I did my primary school homework out here every day. I would take out a blanket and sit here for hours. Lily accidentally enchanted that oak tree right there one time, and every now and then he'll say something really rude to you. We call him Merve."

He walks me around the driveway to the side, where the garage is. The house really isn't as big as everyone has made it seem, but it is beautiful. It's tudor cottage styled, and there are flower gardens all around.

We walk through the garage to get to the backyard, and there is a small quidditch pitch. We sit on the porch swing as he tells me stories about him and James, playing, fighting, and getting into trouble.

He tells me a story about him and his brother up in a tree trying to make a tree house. Mrs. Potter sent Mr. Potter outside to stop them from killing themselves, and instead of scolding them, he got lured into reinforcing the fort with and preparing it for battle.

Charmed at his story, I laugh, and then he leans in for a kiss.

I jump out of the seat and stand in front of him, smoothing out my shirt.

"Can you show me the inside?"

His expression changes from surprised to amiable. "Yeah, lets go."

He tours the inside of his house and, of course, it is beautiful. All three siblings have their own bedroom, but Albus's is different, because it's made of an alcove in the house. He has a large mahogany desk, and a big red sofa. Quidditch posters everywhere, and little piles of dishes and dirty clothes in spots.

His bed is accessible by a ladder that goes up into _another _recess in the wall, hidden away in the corner of the room. To my trepidation, he motions me to follow him up.

The first thing that strikes me is the large window that overlooks the entire backyard. His bed is neatly made, and he has a lamp surrounded by piles of books on a short table. There's no room to stand – The perfect place to sleep.

After a while of me admiring the area, and him disturbingly admiring my admiration, I speak.

"You're very lucky."

And so I panic right away, because I'm sitting on Albus Potter's bed with him, and when I turn my gaze to him he's smiling and searching every inch of my face, and then I really panic because he says:

"I know." And he's leaning in again.

Oh no, no, no. No.

"Nuh-uh!" I cry, pushing him away with both of my hands on his forehead. He relents and falls backwards in exasperation.

"Come onnn!" he drawls.

"You are treating me like a vending machine. I'm not giving out kisses. _I'm not for sale._" I cross my arms like a stubborn child. He gets up on his elbows.

"You were last night," he counters. I glare at him menacingly. "Okay I see I've said something wrong..."

"You are such a _charmer_." I reply scathingly.

At that moment, smarmy little Lily pops up from the ladder with a suspicious look on her face.

"Mum sent me up to make sure you weren't 'doing anything'" she says. "You're not supposed to have your door closed when you have a girl over, Al." She scrutinizes him, and he looks utterly defeated.

"It's not like anything is going to happen!" He cries in my direction.

"How often does he have a girl over?" I inquire as she exits the room triumphantly. I can tell Albus behind me is trying to contact Lily, by the way she stops at his face and considers for a moment. I whip around, and he flies backwards again.

All Lily does is make one loud guffaw, and leaves the room.

That could mean two things. She is either laughing because he never has girls over, or she is laughing because he always does.

Hmm...Let me think.

"You are playing me like a harp." I accuse him sharply.

"Excuse me," he cries, "you're not a harp, you're a fucking enigma!"

"What makes me think I want you to figure me out?" I mutter angrily as I make my way down the ladder. Albus jumps down before I make it to the bottom, and traps me, so I scurry back up.

"Well _somebody _has to."

"No!" I shout down the ladder at him like a child losing the argument.

"Yes." He says, beginning to climb back up the ladder. "And that person is-"

"No, it's not!"

"Why not?" He has me backed into the corner, so I start squeezing around him, before he can trap me like he did last night.

"Because..." I inch away

"Because what?

"Because... Dom!"

Right then I start to fall backwards off the ledge, and Albus grabs onto my arms before I give myself a concussion.

"Have you been seeing him?" The loudness is gone from his voice.

"Let me up, please." He pulls me up, and backs away from me. There are a few beats of silence. I don't know why Dom came up. I don't want him to figure me out either.

I don't want anyone trying to figure me out. All this time Albus has been practically probing me.

I start to get mad. Righteously so. He has been trying to play tricks on me as if I were just any other girl. He has been trying to steal kisses from me, and I'm sick of it. I'm trying to friend-zone him, but he's not letting me do it, with dark his brown eyes, and sentimental stories of home. I'm sick of him scoping out my face for reactions. Constant desperation for approval from me.

I am like a game to him, because he knows he has everyone else in his snares, and I'm the only one putting up a fight. The other girls are docile summer kisses, but I am a chase.

It is so disgusting, that I feel like crying.

But I don't.

"I'm leaving." I stammer out.

"Are you upset?" He shouts after me, worry in his voice. He's losing.

I don't say another word, and run to the livingroom. Ginny Potter peers at me through the kitchen entry way as I grab a fistful of flu powder in a hurry, and whisk away in the ashes.

:::

As soon as I get home I scribble out a letter.

Dom,

I have an invitation to Tucker's mother's wedding, and it is plus one.

Would you like to join me?

-Edie

I send it out with my bird, and for some unholy reason, my eyes water up.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm sorry, it's a short one, after a long wait, but for some reason I was lacking information. I was going to clump it together with some other plot-y stuff, and even though I lacked a whole bunch of plot here, I'll save it for next chapter.

Which will be huge. I'll end summer in tat chapter, and then something AWEFUL will happen, and things will finally start to really heat up.

What do you think of Albus's house? I really like it :)

Review your thoughts, please!


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